I think of hope, That magical, living being that holds up our shattered selves and whispers, keep going. I think of hope, That growing sprout, in an endless plain of darkness when you're lost. When your breath grows faint, it arrives like a sudden breeze. I think of hope, that blue butterfly, dancing, full of joy, when you've forgotten what it means to fly, it becomes your wings to rise again. I think of hope, That hand in the dark, That glimmer in someone’s eyes, That silent presence that says, you’re not alone.