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Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
― Emily Dickinson
The sun has set
On yet another opportunity.
His last rays
Igniting the dying embers
Of hope and faith.
The shadow of this
Certain uncertainty has left
Us all rotting
In a void of non-existent knowledge
In blissful oblivion of what follows.
Misplaced faith and hopeless hope
Their own regrets, for
A past wasted,
The present lost,
And an elusive future.
The sun rises and sets everyday,
Each ray renewing
Hope that once ceased to prevail.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.
― Pablo Neruda