Hope clings to safety;
Its Lifeline is a chord, bedded and awash by the sea.
A Drifting eludes the tides of uncertainty.
Hope floats, surfaces –
As Uprising floods draw near.
The womb is abandoned –
As the Creator’s thirst overwhelms fear.
Through affirming admissions,
When Faith guides –
Hope labors, then delivers ascension.
Let it Breathe.
These sails swell with Awakenings.
What is possible when One Believes?
Horizons rain possibilities.
The cresting waves may set us Free?
If cast aside,
A veiled anchor drags the Radiance
With the depths of dormancy.
To be drenched in the Rapture of Reality –
Or to be dry with bitter complacency.
The Crest of Hope