Hope.

There is never a time when we are without Hope...but hope can often be deceptively small.

At all times we carry within our hands, our tiny bit of hope. A mere candle in the vast darkness that is our existence. It is true, light from such hope can never be quite adequate but atleast it's there.
But too often, in our haste to get through life, we are drawn to that flair in the distance (it is not our own, we are not even sure if it's real) which for that instant is so much brighter than the candle that we hold in our hand. We reach for it, our arms out-stretched...but it's gone...

Our distant beacon has vanished. Its brightness now but a distant memory...but our little candle remains. In our haste it was dropped, but our little hope endures...lopsided, it endures...

Until we awaken from our daze, rub our eyes in disbelief and realise our folly.

And it is then that we bend in humility; grasping for hope that is truly ours--Hope that will always be our eternal guide.