Hope

Hope

A fire reduced to embers,
Barely flickering in the dark.
Put out by a steady stream of tears,
The warm flames now smoldering ash.
Lost in a forest of silence,
Buried in the blanket of night.
The clouds take stage over the stars,
The rain threatens to pound.
The wind gusts its roaring song,
A warning of the storm to come.
All of a sudden an ember catches,
Thrown into the air as a sacrifice.
The others stir and follow in suit,
Rebelling against their certain fate.
And now a small flame fights its way out,
Not yet ready to burn to smoke.
Small, but there, this flame still lives,
Hope, in the eleventh hour.
At least, until next time, this fire survives,
The warmth, weak, but there.