Sometimes, we wonder where hope is when the morning comes, when the sun fails to bring its light on a world aching for warmth.
But, it’s there — even when the wind’s howl drowns the rooster’s song; it’s there as we, shaking, stand defiant against the raging storm. It’s there when we choose to keep the thunders without from resonating within us.
Sometimes, we ask where hope is at the end of a long tunnel when we find the road closed, and there’s nowhere else to go.
But, it’s there — in unexpected detours, when we step off the comforts and safety of our vehicles, and choose to find the unpaved paths most people never see. It’s there even as the way to our dreams are blocked, for our will to dream would never be.
Sometimes, we want to know where hope is when after a long while, the phone finally rings but the voice isn’t the one we badly wish to hear.
But, it’s there — holding on to the fading echoes of emotions seemingly gone but never forgotten. It’s there, in staying true to what we feel even when the world where those passions matter somehow feels already through.
Sometimes, we waver on what hope is when tragedy strikes, when the kindness and compassion are not enough to wash away the hurt and loss.
But it’s there — listening, whispering, urging, encouraging; even as our blind pains mutes the words and numbs us from their embrace. It’s there, even when we try push everything away from our broken selves, even as we try to hold the shattered fragments of our selves together.
Sometimes, it’s not that we place our hope on the wrong people or things; both are bound to fail us. Sometimes, we burden the right people and right things with wrong hopes. And that makes us feel angry, betrayed, wronged… when all the while, it was just our unjust expectations imploding on us.
But it’s there, even in the imperfections of our man-made hopes. Sometimes, we catch a glimpse of it: that pure hope on which all of our hopes were birthed from, that incorruptible source reflecting itself on all our dreams and wishes and fondest desires.
It’s there, not as an unshakeable wall of an impregnable fortress, but a firm foundation that remains even as all our defenses fall into ruin.
It’s there, not in the strong fist shaking its righteous claim, but in the gentle touch that calms the palpable violence in our hearts.
Sometimes, hope seems too far, too lofty, too ideal to believe in. Sometimes, hope seems like an illusion to make ourselves feel better and naively believe in the future.
But it’s been there with you. It’s there in you, even when our delusions of tomorrow dissolve and fill us with disbelief. And when all else seem to grow worse, we learn to believe — not through haughty pride nor stubborn ignorance or vain desperation, but with a childlike innocence of trust.
For sometimes, you just have to close your eyes to see.
Because sometimes, hope is too beautiful, too real, too powerful, for this world to unsee.