Hope

I sit alone,

Draped in the curtains of Reminiscence

Stitched a misty memory a time

Stained with wretched pride and pretense;

If only my broodings would cleave away

The failings that hold me in their sway.

So I hope.

I sit uneasily,

Resting upon the hill I’ve scaled alone

A throne I’ve built of my fallacies

I gaze longingly at the sights below:

Twirling pathways of pleasing possibility

At each end a different person to be.

Yet, less unproven than the present one

Uncertainty is writ over my Decisions,

Never easy, the trail one chooses to run

I lament that in looking so far ahead,

The first stride, sadly, falls to dread.

Yet I hope.

I sit impotent,

With vain visions of ventures and victory;

Is the clenching of past splendor futile?

My words are no more gallant; so suddenly,

Rendering all I’ve done harrowingly hollow,

I utter a valediction, to set a schism to follow.

And as I finally take the first step down

Alas, my kingdoms, they turn to sand;

My heart feels the foretaste of a frown

As their sifting whimpers of decay torment me

It is hard; but I only look ahead, to what will be.

And I hope.