A fragile,
filamentous thread,
a gossamer strand in the face of a strong wind.
We grasp at its intangible substance
to find we destroy what we reach to possess.
One cannot hold fast to hope.
Hope must hold fast to us.
It is not we who are about the doing-
It is instead something being done unto us.
Hope is born of the Refiner’s Fire
in the crucible of our despair.
From the ashes of a half lived life,
in the detritus of a long forgotten dream,
the gift emerges deep within us.
We dare to lift our eyes,
rise on the wings of the Phoenix,
and “cast our awful solemnity to the winds”.
We hope.
We hope because You have first hoped in us.
We hope because
to hope
is
to
live.