The peculiarity of hope

Hope is an interesting thing. The modern connotation has decayed quite a bit from its more previous lofty standard. It is now synonymous with ‘wish’. It means “desire, want, long for”. But hope is not so impuissant. Hope is ‘wish’ become a bodybuilder.

It is a confident expectation. A desire for something in tandem with the confidence of it coming to pass. Hope goes beyond a passing whim, a tickle of fancy. Hope is a surety of our dreams.

Hope is the sun in our heart when we are surrounded by night. It lights our way. It assures us that the path ahead, treacherous or not, can be conquered. Hope is the light of the soul.

Perhaps there in lies the insidiousness of false hope. It snatches what the entirety of our being leaned upon for guidance. And yet, there are times when we allow our natural hope to be made into false hope.

When our hope attempts to shine brighter than the truth, we have led ourselves into deception. It is perhaps understandable. There are times when the truth crushes us, smashes us into nothing.

And yet still the heart must hold hope, lest it give up. There are times when the heart must hope in the face of truth. But it must do so in full knowledge of fighting against truth, not in self-deception. It is with this tenacious hope that miracles are purchased. For as we may find that as we cling to our hope, the truth changes before our eyes. A new truth, the true truth, is revealed where our eyes once found only the illusion of truth.

So often in these revenants there exist fragments of truth, and make them all the more dangerous. They are the most duplicitous of all lies for they are founded upon truths. But once we encounter such phantoms, there exists a film, a graininess, that our hearts see though our eyes may not. When faced with such chimeras, we must push on in hope beyond reason, beyond sorrow. And soon we shall find the veil torn and our hope collided with truth.

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