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What is hope?

In the midst of this chaotic embrace,

But a fallacy. A thing

Unseen, the nature of god

In a broken mind is eternal.

A shattered nature shaped

By fractured nurturing is no faithful testimony;

Instead a faithless testament to

The legacy of incomplete things, people.

Places, it would seem, are no escape

From them. From the

Core of absence comes nothing

And nothing, and nothing.

And nothingness as a symptom thrives

Endlessly, even in a sunrise through

The empty eyes of a witness.

And so I look because I must; cause

Not seeing is a vacuum of existence

That others cannot bear.

And nothing gives hope sometimes, not

The endearment of a new heart nor the

Comfort of an old one. Nor the

Music of a thousand kindred fingers.

Even the understanding of a stranger.

So loss becomes a condition. A state of being in

A universe that holds no meaning, until

The void is not a threat. Because salvation can

Bring no fear of it, beyond my reach there is

Nothing and nothing,

And nothing, and nothing.

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