Hope re[learned]

There are fewer words

we treat with less grace and more

mace than the fragile race of

terms that trace

our love, the one for the other.

And hope is just one,

just one of these terms,

just one silver race to the end

of the music we all have to lace

one day with the disgrace of

death.

But before that day comes 

this hope of fragile race

which crazes unpaved paths

that tread upon us sorely

and interrupt our [core-

{ly]-

ing}

laying 

down of tragic

allies,

find themselves born unwisely out of

unborne wings.

And so we battle weird and despite:

despite ourselves: despite our 

realms:

and so we battle to

main

train our hope: that essential

ally of all our war.

We were built to fight, not lie down placid, 

lake-

like temps:

a permanent equanimity.

And in our warring

nature 

we discover the lover we lost:

at such great cost,

at such great loss.

But no love is too cold

when the answer is

why.

And no love is too warm

when unwhy 

lets us fly.

2 thoughts on “Hope re[learned]

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