The past does not exist.
We keep it alive by recreating it's memories.
The past is dead.
The heat destroyed it but its debris picked up, form parts of our today and tomorrow.
Tomorrow is a choice, to grasp and to hold.
It is certain, it's alive.
We expect it. Whether it be boy or girl, the mother nature knows best.
We keep hope alive, because we are alive.
Today is pregnant, tomorrow it births.
Whether it births pretty or short limbs, we dance and sing.
Whether she became a doctor or he chooses to be a rapist, hope blinds our worst fears.
We have a weapon. One stronger than all spears.
We have 'weaponised' hope.
For a little while, we thought it was weak. For all these while, we refused to put this shield on.
Next breathe, a blink, a smiling wink, a sigh, a gentle nod, a faithful hug, that firm hand shake, a warm bath, a spontaneous song, sanguine, make you a sandwich, layer upon layer, pop a lip, remember and smile, always sign out with a thumb up.
Sit up, warm up, brace up, line up, sign up, follow up, look up, grow up, move up, fill up, up up, rise up, upon upon.
Upon any eventuality, a hope is my role. Today, my hopes have become my events.
I live to hope.
I hop to hope
Till I stand in hope.
My hope, they can't rope.