She moves in grace, slipping between
touching some lovingly, warming our dreams;
Cold and capricious, courted and coveted,
evasive and twisting, slippery and shy.

We climb upwards towards her, into the light
Dragging ourselves from the endless night
of despair into which we so readily descend;
Night after night, longing without end
for that moment of warmth, the sun on our face
when it comes together, pieces fall into place.

And yet from others she turns her head away
gaze moving onwards, no reason to stay
she moves ever forwards, not looking behind
scattering faith in her wake, her ignorance sublime

And yet still we court her, in love and in trust
As our dreams turn to nightmares, our desires into dust
To some she is saviour, to some merely a dream
this elusive goddess, Hope.

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