The Whisper of Hope

In the heart of every man, woman, and child there Is the whisper of hope. Nascent as a rose bud, it Yearns to bloom in its velvety curls of crimson. Birthed in the mire of the earth, the stems of its Life reach for the warmth of the light. The tenderness of the dew and the reflections Of the morning colors, create the mixture of hope. While the elements of nature can assist the rose, The bareness which comes with the bitter winds Can cast its long shadow across its path. What starts as a nuance of thought, the cradle Of the mind carries the seedling of hope to the Light. Winter and the coolness of derision blunt The blossoming of a dream. Spring and the Gentle rain alight as encouraging faith. Heaven hears the cry of every heart, and its Ears welcome the pleas of each broken petal. Whispers in the shade of night fall as warm Tears, but the moonlit sky twinkles with the Jewels of Heaven, and hope comes in the morning. (May the Lord of Heaven and Earth cast His light upon you.)