hope

Hope.
A strain of possibility,
Flying on the wind,
Fragile as a blade of grass to a climber.
It floods the mind,
Destroying reason and despair equally,
Sowing the seeds of joy and healing wounds.
We all hope,
Some more than others,
And who can say whether we are right to do so?
Who can say if our hope is in vain?
I know not the answers,
But I can say with certainty that I believe in hope,
And in its intent.
We all hope for many things,
And they may not all come to pass,
But even if they don't,
  It's worth it,
      Isn't it?