The Hope

The inconsequential light that passes over your face as you sleep

The hidden corners of a room you frequent too little

The lost moments of time when you slip from awareness into oblivion

The trickle of water down a soundless slope

The realisation of fears in an unfair world

The knowledge that you are alone for most of your life, searching for a reader of your soul

The terrible ache that results from seeking another heart such as yours in the vastness of life

The hope that drives you on against all obstacles thrown at you, or created by you

The witness to every dawn

          The waiter at every table

                               The depth in every shadow

                                                    The warrior in every fight

The rain that flows onto your upturned face to clean your soul

The winter that bites the fingers with its fateful grasp

The tears of every human being oppressed and mistreated

The shame that your species disrespects and destroys its home

The incongruence of people who think they can fool you, just because they have fooled themselves

The empty promises of those who do not value their word

The lonely lament for an opportunity to give the depth of love you have to offer

The unwillingness to accept second best as acceptable in love

The all or nothing attitude that offers presence and absence at every turn

The moments of rapture, when drenched in sunlight amongst the forest of our sentient home

The silence that roars in the ears of the woken

The deafness of the majority who cannot see your colours

The assumptions of others who feel they are able to read you

The search for an aura that will make perfect art with your own

The ability to hear the words in the spaces

The space in which to understand intent

The endless search for the eyes that can see who you are

The desire to be missed and to miss just as much

The desire to be able whenever you are needed

The hope that through feeding, that one day you’ll be fed

The words that spew forth displaying your curated soul

The knowledge that so few could ever break the code

The wonder of nature and the uncertainty of you

The ethereal feeling of being invisible to most

The people who see but are blind to the truths.

The comfort of normality is just a prison for your art

The tension of socialising with the crowd that cannot see you

The anxiety of sharing with someone, who simply doesn’t know

The levels of thinking that satisfy, cannot be touched by most

The space between minds is far greater than most could fathom

The glory of small things that matter the most

The inability for the soul to lie

The volume of a soul’s search for its likeness, remains unheard by most that exist

The whispers that deafen in the heart of a listener

The seeing that provides foreknowledge of most

The awareness that lights up every inflection or move

The clarity with which you understand what has not been said

The wisdom that is earned through the pain of experience

The acceptance that your journey may forever be alone

The strength that comes from your inner wisdom

The willingness that comes from your capacity to love

The hope that lives forever

                    The hope that lives

                       The hope

Iain Merchant © 2020