The Beacon of Hope

Hardship in it’s wake
hardens one’s mind
to hold what is pure
to hold what is bright
and preserve it.
So that it may shine
As bright as a Beacon’s light
A firework, vivid and sprite
Or a candle, glowing polite,

And that they may be the boat you borrow
to cross the river filled with sorrow
we call life –
A calming ride or a rushing flow-
gentle, kind or a thrashing blow.
Peace. And strife.

A boat,with its broken oars’
a rusty bucket, with all its pores,
a shredded sail
and clothes, gone pale,
a creaking port
and things, scattered, out of sort.

A leaking boat.
And a folded note.
And when the waves get too high
underneath the grey dismal sky
Hold on.

For past the storm lies
calm breeze and gentle tides.
Hold on.

What is light but shadow’s device
For a shadow is born
from light’s demise.

So don’t let the candle go out
stay strong, to astound
against the winds against the odds.

That little flame
is all you have
in this dark deep void
we call life.

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