Hope

In shadows long where silence weeps, The soul in quiet vigil keeps, A flicker small, a fragile spark, A flame that brightens through the dark. Where mountains tower, skies divide, The river's truth cannot be denied, For even stones, beneath the stream, Are shaped and softened by their dream. The oak that bends beneath the storm, In bowing low, retains its form, And roots that burrow deep in earth Hold fast through death and bring new birth. The stars may hide, the night seem cold, Yet dawn still burns in hues of gold, For every dusk that fills with fear Holds promise that the light draws near. So when the winds of fate grow wild, Remember still, O weary child, That hope, though quiet as the breeze, Can move the hearts and shift the seas.