At times, hope is a double edged sword, consistently being parried and pushed back into you. Its finely honed edge deftly ripping you apart where you stand.
At times, hope becomes a dark sphere of bitterness, so full of resentment over its failure to come to fruition that you must crush it down into a tiny black ball of nothingness and hurl it out into the depths of the ocean that is life.
Yet somehow, even as you stand there, gazing out into the surf, pondering what you’ve thrown away, that little black ball of hope gradually makes it’s way back to you, rising and falling with each wave until it once again rests at your feet.
You can try once again to rid yourself of it by grasping this sphere of hope with both hands and smashing it upon the jagged rocks, ignoring your bloodied knuckles, endlessly dashing your hope into ever smaller pieces as the freezing water swirls around you.
Its simply something you must do. knowing its not healthy to hold onto these desires, knowing in your heart of hearts such dreams aren’t likely to become reality.
Yet, when you finally collapse into the sand, exhausted, certain you are rid of it, you’ll notice it’s all still there, intermingled with the sand, the seaweed, the rocks, and the surf are little pieces of that hope you once held dear.
You can never fully rid yourself of it.
Hope may change in form, you may even turn your back on it and deny it’s existence, you may trick yourself into believing that the clouds have parted and sun now shines upon you after so long spent in the darkness.
Yet, deep within you, hope still remains.