What is hope for if not to imagine a better tomorrow from the space that we are but what if that change is about finding who we really are in the reflection of who we think we are not?
What if our hope is a flower created from the unwanted and it isn’t ever empty even when it doesn’t happen?
What if our hope is about recognizing that we do advance in some manner regardless of missteps or preconceived ideas?
What if our hope’s purpose is to quietly pour nourishment into our soil so that we can invite flowers to bloom but still be all right if they don’t?
What if our hope is telling us that our own tight boundaries haven’t been letting light in?
What if our hope is reminding us that we are assuming that the weight of yesterday’s sorrow must be carried the same way into the tomorrows?
What if our hope is really our courage in disguise but we haven’t had the confidence to define it in our stories like that?
What if our hope balances all that we are against the noise of the dragons that tell us all that we are not?
What if our hope is the magic in the dark that is meant to be held in our hearts and not always in our hands?
What if our hope’s value as a tool in our artwork is most often expressed in ordinary moments?
What if our hope controls the space of the best days and otherwise, articulating the beauty that exists wherever we are?
What if our hope always brings what we need even though what it gives back isn’t always what we imagined we wanted?
When we haven’t heard from our hope, we get through it by opening it up so that it may move on our pages, turning past marks on the walls and captions into trustworthy steps whether wishes would come true or not.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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