In the depths of despair, where shadows creep,
And darkness shrouds the land in its embrace,
There blooms a light, a flame, a song to keep,
A melody of hope, in every space.
Amidst the chaos, where anguish reigns,
And tears fall like rain upon the earth,
There flies a bird, with its joyful strains,
A symbol of resilience, of rebirth.
Hope is the thing with feathers, they say,
That perches in the soul and sings a tune,
A melody that carries us away,
Beyond the pain, beneath the silver moon.
It whispers softly in the dead of night,
And whispers still when morning breaks anew,
It lifts us up with wings of pure delight,
And guides us through the trials we must pursue.
Though storms may rage and winds may fiercely blow,
And darkness threatens to engulf our sight,
Hope spreads its wings and takes us far to go,
A beacon in the ever-present night.
So let us listen to its gentle call,
And let its melody fill our hearts with cheer,
For even in the darkest hour, through it all,
Hope is the thing that helps us persevere.
