Hope

Hope is not a flame — it’s the ash that stays warm. It’s the whisper in a riot, the calm inside a storm. It’s a tear that dries itself, a laugh after the pain, the strength to keep walking through heartbreak and rain. Hope can be cruel, a flicker, then gone, but even the lost will keep stumbling on. It hides in the cracks, in the words left unsaid, in holding on tight when you’re hanging by thread. Hope’s not always gentle — it fights tooth and claw. It’s scratched into prison walls and shouted in war. It’s messy, it’s hard, but it still makes a way. And if you’ve got hope, you’ll survive one more day.