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Hope Hope is a peculiar angel She is the antipathy of faith And the promise of dreams The pessimist sardonic waiting in the wings To give you hope Bright the hours must be In the arms of hope To clinch upon the clouds penumbra When darkest drear runs petulant through veins So comes the clarion of hope A vague skeleton in her robes With her feathered wing-ed tears For courageous she comes But hammers theism upon the cold gold plate To make intuition beg forgiveness Too prideful to admit deceit, is hope Too formulated to walk with instinct Too lost in desperate wishings to bare fruit And grant epiphany in the eyes of trust Too many lies in the hope of truth A peculiar angel is always hope She is the antipathy of faith And the promise of dreams The persistent pessimist waiting sardonic In the wings of impossible hope |
this is complicated, almost hopeless! A stampede of emotions, all in the grip of paralysis! is this what you're saying hope is? could be? a good read non the less.. almost euphoric, my type of read....kudos! vlad09| Posted on 2012-05-21 00:00:00 | by Damien Vladimir | [ Reply to This ] | |