When one walks, they truly walk alone. They spread their Heart far and wide only to see it walked on by those around. Inwardly fighting the urge to explode in rage, one seeks to hide the tears that obviously need to flow. Can there be solace for such a weary soul, but hope and prayer while observing a futile scene? Strolling down a path the inhibited boast. They seek to seed a weed of thorns. The end of ridicule is but a breathe away, but the lowly try to pull them down. There is no person to say I love you true. What then is there left for one to attain? HOPE. Oh so precious and delicate HOPE! No, the peering eyes do go out to destroy, but HOPE brings one through the dark. No forest is cut but that HOPE makes it bow out the way. And HOPE is bred from the truth observed, or darkness should always abound. I go where no one knew, but I, that I would prevail in such a spectacular way. The Future is not bleak, nor is it destined for filth, violence, or any such thing; rather wonderful, full of serenity and joy of heart. At the bottom that has been found. Soon it shall abundantly abound.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Mar 2014 02:30:15 +0000
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