Hope is a labyrinth of sweet words, it’s music for those who listen.

Hope is ethereal, like a dance with an angel on the shore of a misty lake.

Hope adds pictures to your mind, wondrous fairy tales so real they can bring you to tears.

Hope is the sound of a newborn’s cry, as a mother soars in its melody for the very first time.

Hope is there when things don’t seem like they will ever get any better.

Hope is the promise of the brightest sunrise, despite the endurance of the darkest night.

Hope gives us something to hold on to, an anchor, a beacon to guide us.

Hope will spend a lifetime looking for you, hope is always waiting.

And hope only asks for one small thing in return for all its giving —

Hope wants you to find it.






Thinned-out woods.

Perfectly placed pear trees planted on the lawn.

 Another replicated mall.

Target, Olive Garden, Kohl’s, and Dick’s.

Slithering suburbia with no limits.

Spilling, rushing, flooding for miles.

An endless ocean of more-of-the-same.

Are there any islands left?

Is there a glitter of difference in this look-alike sea?

The question: Which way should she go?

Toward the bright, shiny things?

Should she drown with the neighbors?

Or did the serpent already consume her and she doesn’t even know it?