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Poem

How many tears must hope shed?
Is there no bread left for the hungry,
or cures bred for the sick?
Can hard work feed itself no more,
neither trust share its roots with truth,
with no water left to nurture either one?
Does love have none left for itself,
nor mercy favor fruits of friendship
as it once did?
Do rainbows reign no more after rain
nor doves fly following rainfall
with fresh saplings in their bills?
Has faith lost its will to live?
Will will lose itself to fear?
Would that God would strike it down
with one brush of His hand.
But this Would must submit to God.
World's hope may have fallen to embers,
but God's hope breathes flames of white,
for white knows the rainbow,
which signals water is growing the crops 
that feed each fellow man.
Hope's origin is not with man,
but with God.
If hope is lost,
it is because this we have forgotten,
that hope lies in God's only Begotten Son

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