Hope

Our waking life descends into the dark

Each day, using a gently sloping track

Moving downward without any waymark,

With time not allowing any way back.

Apprehension, as dark intensifies,

Increases as shadows make us afraid

As they dance, we believe, before our eyes

And, as the blackness falls, our souls invade.

But all such dismal thoughts are put away

As the dawn wakens with the shiny dew

And a chorus greeting the joys of day.

Whilst the child, refreshed, calls with something new

To show us that each day expectation

Need not dim. Hope is our own creation.