An ember buried in the blackness of the night
concealed within the faded hopes of yesterday
Ignited by a cosmic wind the cycle starts again
the eastern fire kindled by a hidden hand
Night yields to dawning day, unique and rare
unlike another, like unto itself alone
Complexities of dust and vapor
incandescent as the morning climbs
Ebony gives way to gray
then quickly yields to colors that defy a name
Changing quicker
than the eye can catch them
And with the day hope rises from its tomb of pain
announcing it survived the night as well
Welcomed or not it shamelessly asserts itself
refusing to be swallowed by the night

Hope is hard to kill

Great effort and persistency
can push it to the edges of oblivion
But even then it’s subject to reviving
for resurrection lives within its veins
I think resurrection flows within my veins as well
how can I tell?
Because I cannot seem to help myself
hope has me by the heart and won’t let go
But evening comes
it always has, it always will
There’s nothing can be done but let it rest
let it lay and turn my eyes toward another day
Even when engulfed by darkest times
the ember glows
Though hidden by the blackness of the night
His wind still finds it
And against my better judgment
I begin to move toward its warming fire

I suppose I am the moth
and hope’s the flame

Danny Mullins © 2016