... is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune ~ without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~ Emily Dickinson
Sometimes, we all need something to hold onto ... but I adore the last sentence ~ hope never demands anything from us, but faith in those around you, in the world, in goodness, in love and ultimately, in God ...
