[poetry] Our Hope

Within these hands,
these soiled hands
lies a gift too big for the whole word to handle.

A warming sensation,
a feeling of something
not seen in this world for a very long time.

It fades, diminishes,
periodically loses power,
but will always come back in times of desperation.

It’s a light caressing.
Enveloping and evolving,
gaining strength to stamp out the blight of the world.

It is innocent,
epitomizing purity.
Forever increasing its number of believers.

Bigger than wars,
greater than heroes.
It’s the hope of the many who wish for peace.

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