What is life for? What is it that gets us out of bed in the morning? what makes us fight so dearly to stay alive? The simple and overlooked answer is this: hope. Hope that one day we will be free from the fears and anguish of this world. Hope is what begins wars, what begins mirages, what causes the offspring of birds to leave the nest. What is there beyond hope? What besides the thought of a new day and of better life is there to drive us. Without hope, life is no more than leaving a good corpse behind, no more that idle victories over meaningless feuds, no more than feeling good now.
In a world void of the faint glimmer of hope, there is no morality, there is no life, there is nothing to believe in. So what can be done when hope is gone? What thing could give that back to us, even though all else fails? Can we believe that there is more than mere suffering and death?

hope |hōp|
1 a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen : he looked through her belongings in the hope of coming across some information | I had high hopes of making the Olympic team.
a person or thing that may help or save someone : their only hope is surgery.
• grounds for believing that something good may happen : he does see some hope for the future.
2 archaic a feeling of trust.

What person can save you? Can your best friend, out of their own fears and doubts, save you? Can your neighbor save you? Can your dog save you? No, they cannot. The only one who can save you, the only one who can give you hope is the one who's very thought was the hope that sparked our universe. Anything else that you put your hope in or think will save you will fail you in the end, over and over again. If that is we live for, if that is the only thing that is keeping us alive, then God give me hope.

Queen of Exile

Well, I was going to try and write up a post about something I've been feeling over the past few months, but I cannot convey sufficiently what I am feeling through a post. So, as I am enjoying this breath of fall as the sun peeps her head through these turning leaves, I have thought of a way to put words to my mind. Don't feel bad if you don't understand it though, it is just a jumble of words that have spit themselves out onto this page.

Queen of Exile
I wish that I could write
But all that I have left is this light
Because the learned scholars all say
That beauty never came that way
They will never understand
What they cannot hold in their hand
To them it is nothing but a waste
What they cannot see or taste
A substitute to life is what is being sought
But what I have found here cannot be taught
To analyze and scrutinize is to look at life apart
Just gaze into her beauty; it is a work of art
To peer so close at slides
Through microscopic eyes
And seek to find her there
In a single lock of her hair
Is a great search in vain
When she hides within rain
But they will never see
Their blind eyes are not free
Far too few have seen
The beauty of the exiled queen
She can be hard to find
So most don't waste their time
I wish there were a way
That I could make her stay
But that is where her beauty lies
She is held down by no ties
All her life I sum in this
To take a gentle kiss
to find her in my eyes
To breathe her gentle sigh
to meet her in the sun
To find her one by one
To smell her in the air
This beauty is so fair