It is in the dark somber honesty of the night,
That the Audacity of Hope reveals itself,
Swirling with Hope’s every movement,
It ensnares the last weak rays of receding light,
And shimmers, like a dancer in the dark.
Hope smiles her azure smile, most innocently.
And the Watcher in the night scrabbles at the myriad possibilities,
That flicker at the edge of his vision,
While the Audacity that clothes Hope gleams,
A silent, mischevious gleam…
A glimmer here,
A flutter there,
The sheen of light, now,
A dewdrop on a silken thread,
Moving faster than the eye can follow.
Till the Watcher heaves a deep breath,
And steadies his mind, heart racing.
He turns from demure Hope,
That glimmering butterfly,
To those he knows all too well,
Hope’s infamous cousins…
Worry, Fear and Despair.
They crowd eagerly around the Watcher,
Trusting the dark to hide the threadbare velvet of their gowns,
And the Watcher pretends he does not see,
As he immerses himself in the company of his willing bedfellows…
Worry’s large eyes mesmerize him,
Fear drags a slow finger down his spine,
And Despair presses warmly against his bare chest…
They are here… and now…
So, the image of Hope,
That azure butterfly,
Cloaked in her resplendent Audacity,
Dwindles away into a nothingness,
That gleams, deep within his mind.