The Virtue of Hope

Bounded as we are

For a purpose utterly unknown

Who are we?

If not for whom?

 

Passing by the myth

Of why one gets to live,

But life has and will

Always remain a question,

And its answer lies

In the soul of the dead.

 

A reason won’t surpass

The depth of its query

A slimmer of hope

Gives it an existence.

 

Good or bad in hope

Beholds the creature,

Hoping against hope

The ultimate goal.