Hope On

Time crumbles into moments,
Days, years, and decades,
Each measurement holds
A modicum of Hope;
The endings and beginnings,
The continuum of aspirations,
Our indomitable spirit of expectancy.

What if none of it is real,
Only an impetus to place
One foot before another?
We cannot get stuck in the Now
For there is always another Now.
Perhaps it is this very quickening
That gives the illusion of Time.

But here we stand
On the threshold of the unknown,
Full of wonder at what lies ahead.
Which way will our paths lead?
Dreams of what can become
The figure of our dance,
Beckon us relentlessly.

And so, join hands.
The circle widens then constricts,
Morphing into wisps of recognition.
A thread of longing binds it all together,
Fed by the deepest knowing
That it can be as we dream it to be.
Hope on forever.

Prema Rose