It fails me
why I persist in using the word
hope

It hangs in the background
waiting
for my inevitable bad luck
ready
for the opportunity
to be of service

It promises much
yet grants so little

I hope for rain
then hope it won’t
I hope we’ll meet
and hope we don’t

I hope for love
then wish it gone
I hope for the future
but fear
there might not be one

I hope there’s a God
and all my fears of him
being a legend
are so not true

I look around
look up and beyond
I don’t see or feel a **** thing
but a heavy sky
and the rotten company
of my desolate heart

Hope is like
blowing out candles
ignoring the obvious
taking a stab in the dark
on a childish wish

Who started this hope thing?
Who taught me this?

When I get to the point
of being sure
there is no God
that hope is
essentially hopeless
I think it’s time to let go
but again
I refuse the path
towards the end is nigh
and precede
down the curved lane of hope
forever the seeker
that one of these days
I’ll discover genuine desire
the sweet fruit of faith
and hope
that becomes substance

Hope sticks
hope is going nowhere
simply because
without it
I would be nothing