to hope:

because hope had never come to me freely --

always an unapologetic skeptic
finding fault in the almost perfect
turning the wheel
till it landed on the nail
that would eventually halt the journey

but hope came to me when i needed it the most.
when, falling down the rabbit hole
i was forced to grow in stature
and reduce in height,
when a talking flower bed
reduced me to a minute weed -

"a weed is just as important,"
hope would say, and i'd swallow
the cheshire grin coming across my face;
"dandelion: the tooth of the lion --
they call that a weed,"
(reminding me that the summer's sun
is only beautiful when mixed with
april's showers)

it was with hope that my internal grace
was restored. there has never been anything
more beautiful than the touch of
the undeniable creeping across my neck
as the sun brings light to each morning.
nothing better than the comfort trust,
honesty, and humility brings.

nothing better than hope.
from hope, my grace is fostered;
by hope and grace,
the mixture of your earth and my fire,
of the sun and the constellations,
of shooting stars and night skies...
only this can bring the true measure of love:
a grain of faith,
planted,
sown,
watered,
loved,
brought to being
and ripened under the cautious hands
of the most beautiful natural force
to ever exist.