Hope can fly, and it can't be chained down. It comes and goes as it pleases, and we can only hold onto it for as long as we can, but it always comes back in the end. On that subject, here's a short little poem for you by Emily Dickinson.
Hope is the Thing with Feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without the words
And never stops at all.
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