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Alberto Apr 2019
Hope is a ‘thing’
That flies without wings!
She speeds us along,
Among doldrums and doubts,
Gives us a longing
That can endure a few bouts.

She’s summoned -ephemerally-
In times of distress
Could make one feel
As though she’s never left.

But then, again,
Being just and fair,
It seems there are times,
When she CAN’T be found-

Do her feathers tire?
Or the engines run dry?
Might I win back her comforts
By again getting high?

Can I summon her, like Alexa,
To just COME BACK?!
Or? Why does she leave; at times,
Without leaving a track?

Can I capture her warmth
In an indestructible ‘black box’?
Found after disaster-
To explain HOW she was lost?

She must fly solo,
Adjusting to the winds-
She encapsulates ‘aspiring’
With her future visions...

Hope IS a thing...
Truest self
Alberto Apr 2019
The truest beauty
Lies deep within;
Amongst the pain and struggles
And scars of choices past,
Muted by earworms of doubt.

It is hinted at-
But rarely seen,
Felt in moments of earnest laughter.

Briefly exposed
By cracks
In the veils of shame, guilt, self esteem.
To my truest self

— The End —