Disclaimer: Don’t own Josiah. He belongs to Mirsch, Trilogy, etc.
Author’s Note: Josiah is meditating on hope again.
The devastation of hope is depicted in my mind by the battlefield upon which lie my shattered dreams.
At odds with man’s nature, hope remains the thinly disguised foundation of optimism. A lie wrapped so tightly in need we cling to it, plead to it and beg it to carry us through.
Hope whispers its lies to us, telling us the world is a better place, can be a better place, that we can make it a better place.
Hope sets you up for a fall time and again, yet even as we drop to the darkest depths of despair, we cling to the illusion of hope to bring us to a better place, to get us through the day.
It’s a belief.
What hope is there for the thirteen-year-old girl they buried here today? What hope is there for her grieving family? What false light of hope can I offer the family of the girl whose life I took? What hope can I find in my Hell?
Yet even in the dark, consuming despair, I turn to the light that is my constant tormentor – hope.
I hope for forgiveness. I hope for less pain. I hope to once more breathe freely and to smile again.
Even after all this time, knowing what I know, I still hope.
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