I Fell in Love with Hope - Lancali

And hope. Hope is the bittersweet companion of loneliness. It lives in
creatures of the forever, a caring home with more curiosity than
sense. It omits little white lies and steals here and there. It gets lost.
Lost in those who need it.
Hope tastes like a day at the sea and holds your hand with a bruising
grip. It is deep and afraid and hollow and brave.
Hope is the dirty white sneakers on otherwise ever bare feet. The
sweatshirts we share. The promise poems torn at the edges. The
headphones with always knotted wires and the dances on cold
rooftops. The boring, comfortable hum of machines and the cool,
thrilling beaches. The shadows against a protruding spine caressed
by your lover. The heat of a kiss and icy fingertips against reddened
cheekbones.
The little moments.
The everything moments.
The moments before the sun chooses to rise.
Though some shadows may ruin the world, there are people, people
like them, who survive and crawl from the wreckage. The people
who created this
home, the people who continue to study and roam and practice to
save one another. They are more than hollow shells to sate death’s
hunger. They are full of passion, of resilience, of kindness, and of
immeasurable hope.
My hope, my love was born from that wish.
It was born so that suffering strangers have a place to belong. To
keep the night and the mirrors away. To let artists storm the halls and
sketch as many smiles as they can. To make time feel endless. To
make the despair that lives in us feel just a little less alone.