Hope

My shoes crunch against the ground,

My weapon carried in my hand,

My shoulders back and muscles tightly wound,

I make my way across a littered land.

I see my target ahead

I see the future in my mind

I see the way it'll be read

My hope is a warmth I feel unravel and unwind.

I've talked myself into it and I've talked myself out

I'm anxious, I can't let myself down

I'm threatening excuses I will never say aloud

But I'm sick of myself acting the clown.

So I do as I intended

I take the leap

All my hopes inside and heart mended

Against the onslaught of fear I hold deep.

And I hold the hope as I feel it waning

Watch the future I predicted fading

Tell myself the world is kind

While I find only sourness in my mind.

The numbers move then

And I feel happy with that

But I'm tired and I'm raw

So I sit back, set my pen aside, and I admire the writing, the art, and the hunt as what it is, the way it is, until the next time...

When my slippered feet shuffle across the carpet,

My pencil, my paintbrush, my laptop clutched in my hand,

My thoughts latched on my target

I make my way across a land, littered with balled up papers and torn up hopes

I move quickly to capture the story vapours made from my crafted thoughts.