Hope is used frivolously, it spins off the mouths of those who are searching to dilute the charge behind their action.
It is deployed to allow the listener to remain comfortable,
However false it may be.
Yet hope is the reason behind each action taken, each word spoken.
Hope is the why, just as love is.
Love is used as though it is meaningless, as though love is incessant, as though we can look into any stranger’s eyes and feel love to the greatest extent that we may with a soulmate or a mother.
It is expressed without care, rendering its meaning useless, for love is rare.
While care can be found by looking into any type of aesthetic, love is only found in the connection of living.
And we live our lives, treating divine moments as though they will flow to us with an unremitting consistency, insulting love with each moment we expect there to be it.
But love is rare. Love is not a constant, but rather a luxury which gives life itself a meaning.
So, hope and love.
Spoken without tenure, taken without care, but should be cherished.
For if one has hope and love simultaneously, there is nothing else the universe may give them to enhance that moment; it is fulfilled.
I hope one day I will love and feel loved, but even more so I hope I can love and hope in a single moment, no matter how fleeting, no matter how aesthetic or how dreary, for that will be the first moment I can feel what it is like to live.