Hopelessy Hoping

As I walk through the light of hope, the trees stretch over me, folding in— as if they want to hug me with the full force of the wind. I feel all the baggage I’ve carried being swept away. I fall, and the world pauses— everything is muted. I let myself drift, not stopping, just floating, letting the earth pull and take control. I land evenly, face first. The smell and taste ignite every sense— familiar, almost. I stand up, covered in dirt from head to toe. My hair is full of twigs and sticks, but I can’t help rubbing it in, feeling oddly clean and protected— like I’ve been reborn. I want to wear this dirt with pride. Finally, I understand: to have hope, you must not be afraid to face the dirt beneath— face your fears, own them, wear them like armor. And then you will see the light at the end— ready to reward you, if you’re brave enough to fall and rise again.