I follow the white winged dove of eternal hope
That springs full formed from the human condition
And urges the self forward to some unknown fulfillment
Known only to muses of enlightenment.
Forsake thine own humanity at thine own peril!
The shrill cry of those who find themselves on the far side
of the River Styx.
Ne'er abandon all hope, lest ye find yourself here!
A quick soul among the dead of ages.
As you take your next breath
See tomorrow!
Feel it in your bones!
Clutch it to your breast and
Pray not for surcease that which enables
A life of choices continuing still.