hope

and hope . . . .
well hope keeps on perseveringly
not merely a forced march under
the command of time's plodding rule.
For hope is a choosing to forget what is behind
a readiness to embrace what lies ahead--
be it a sun cloaked cornucopia of plenitude,
or a winter sky brow furrowed with cold.
And hope very often can't see what's being waited for--
true hope, that is.
hope is that which looks death in the face,
and laughs.
hope looks at barren fields with faith
for the harvest.
hope sees no one to travel with
but trusts Jehovah Jireh.
and that is the hope I live for--one which knows
that though time may not heal,
though time may toss and confuse and unwarrant
what seems to be a lunacy of optimism,
eternity's endless moments will
each be filled with fulfilled, telos-achieving promises.
And that is what we hope for.