Hope is active, it is a verb more than a noun. I cannot let it be defined by the weight or the length of wait, for patience is another thing. My hope is mobile, nomadic, hard-headed, went astray and was lost, but now is marching straight ahead, focused, headed towards your direction.

     If I have to settle in the uncertainty, allow in wilderness of time, just to find my self writing these silly love poems, then I'd rather live among the tents around your heart. I will stand by and for it and vow to guard. Shall I be doomed to be the fasting wolf that fends the other wolves away, then so be it. My heart will be yours as your secondary shield.

     I am persistence and I am endurance, because they have to go hand in hand, I cannot forsake one over the other, nor lose them both. I am an old train, diligent, opening all doors for one. I am a platform, wide, immovable, a place you can always stand on. And out of thousands and thousands of passengers, I am making up ny mind, you are the one I choose.

     You are the one I would wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and (for the 7th time, for in the Bible 7 means completion) wait for, and pray for and gladly fight for, for you are worth it, all of it.

          Love perseveres.*

© 2017 J.S.P.