Even in the worst of times
When
faith dwells near abandonment,
And
trust appears a unicorn
Impossible
to hold,
These
tiny fragments still remain
And
lift their voices in refrain
To
sing that we are foreordained
To
softly tread on streets of gold.
We
know not our destiny,
Dare
not rely on prophecy
To
foretell outcome in our “wannabee”.
But
if these fragments are employed
Their
roots can flower into joy
And
lift us from the dregs of drudgery.
Let
all rejoice to realize
That
optimism never dies,
But
gently waits in patient afterglow.
Its
colorful kaleidoscope
Exists
in fragments filled with hope
And
that is all we really need to know.
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