Sometimes there’s nothing to go on but hope.
No proof, no guarantees.
No winning lottery ticket.
No rescue in the nick of time.
No heroes to fix everything
In a perfect 60-minute format, just before the commercial.

Just hope. Just the kind of courage that comes from nothing left to lose.
Just a ‘what the hell else are you going to do?’ moment.

Maybe it’s the season, the days in February when
It begins to feel like nothing is going to thaw.
Something quickens despite all the evidence,
Despite all the weight of cold experience.
Something feels the long rhythms,
Something stirs in the depths of cold nights.
Something that has been asleep, but shivers awake, when the moment is right.

Hope. That’s all there is. That’s all there’s ever been.
Foolish, delusional, ridiculous, irrational.
Just hope. Something no one can steal.
When everything else is stripped away,
When everything is gone, and
You don’t even have a psychic quarter left to make a phone call
(And there aren’t even any pay phones left, anyway.)
But there’s something…. something down there.
Do you feel it, too?
Maybe. Just maybe.

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