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I walked along a path called Fate,
Unable to see ahead.
I bumped into a man named Hate,
Who swore that Hope was dead.

I mourned for Hope all through the night.
And late into the day.
Sad that I‘d grown strong and proud,
As it had withered away.

The more I thought, the more I cried.
And lost, I tarried through years.
Aimless strength and foolish pride
And countless, countless tears.

And yet I tread that path again,
Hoping I can cope.
Unable to see ahead again,
I bump into my Hope.

So know that Hope cannot be lost.
And Fate will often lie.
That path’s toll would come at dreaded cost,
If it were that Hope could die.

Created: Dec 21, 2010


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