Hope, a fragile whisper, floats on a gentle breeze,
Its wings alight with dreams and endless possibilities.
A beacon of solace, a flame that cannot be denied,
It lifts the spirit, igniting fires deep inside.

Yet close beside, with solemn stride,
Dwells the ghost of sorrow, a tempest's tide.
With somber hues and tears that softly weep,
It wraps its arms around, a melancholic sweep.

Hope sings of skies unbound, of futures bright and grand,
While sorrow mourns what's lost, a heart in heavy sand.
One pulls us forward, to chase dreams high above,
The other grounds us, reminding of our fragile love.

Hope weaves a tapestry of colors, bold and bright,
While sorrow paints in shades of gray, dimming the light.
Together, they create a symphony so profound,
A kaleidoscope of emotions, their essence unbound.

For joy is sweetest when born from sorrow's embrace,
And hope shines brightest in the darkest space.
They intermingle, a dance of contrasts and extremes,
Creating a complete experience, like a poet's dreams.

So let them intertwine, these opposing forces, dear,
For only in their union, the human soul can steer.
Embrace the bittersweet, the harmony they bring,
And find the beauty that emerges when emotions sing.
© Peta-Gay Powell