Good morning –
I'm writing this to myself.
I was ranking the most fantastic moments of my life last night,
while trying to fall asleep (not exactly the best strategy),
and I saw hope written there, someway, in
one of them.
These memorable moments
fan the spark into the flames of what is to be.
They ignite the present, while pointing to future days, whenever we recall them.
The day a child is born.
The day you meet your loved one.
The day you set foot in that place you wanted to be for long, longer than anyone could ever know.
A first day. A first time.
They all instil hope
They’re special in themselves
while quietly signalling what lies ahead.
Isn't it fascinating?
I have written,
and read pain.
On being a human like anyone else, I've experienced it.
On carrying a mental disorder, I've felt it sometimes nearly beyond bearable.
But I'm still here
(apparently, so are you)
And it can't.
It can't be for nothing.
It can't be
just so we get up and go to sleep and work,
just so we get around disguising feelings,
lowering our voices and going unnoticed
until we die.
It can't be.
If you feel life with the same intensity as I (and many) do,
Speak up and speak out.
Say what you want to say.
We're here to be brave.
To carry on this massive, gigantic engine that we were given by our parents, grandparents, and everyone before them.
To be human to the best of our ability.
To enjoy the ride.
To do weird shit.
To eat dessert before dinner.
To stand in line for a concert
and sing along with tens of thousands of people you’ve never seen.
To stop walking
and stare at something beautiful.
I don't need to remind you about how things are out there today.
Not today. Let that go for a second.
Just be here,
Put the armour down for a minute.
Nobody is watching.
Find yourself again.
Remind yourself of
Write a poem.
Write a song.
Make a hat
Put out what you got
in a way we can peek what's in this brain and heart of yours
in a way we can relate to you and learn
Look at things with the devotion
and sweet foresight of hope.
This thing with feathers
but no colour
or a precise physical sensation in our bodies.
This anticipation of something we can't grasp,
but we know to be bright
as if we had been there already for a millisecond
and came back.
I can't ask for anything now
Every beautiful thing has intrinsic hope.
There's nowhere to go without it.
I want hope.
I need hope.
With hope, I’m home.
I will build hope with my bare hands.
I will sew hope into every thread of every fabric.
I will write hope on my arms.
And I wish that
we ever create
can be a vessel of hope.
Every link contained in this piece refers to a song or creation that, somehow, has given me hope.