hope

There's a thought that flies
Gliding slowly fluttering above
A world of joy sorrow and lies
Confused and mixed
Like a delicate dark fanged dove

Sun trickles through outstretched finger
Groping gladly albeit in vain
Grab it and you may find some hope
Let go and you may seek no more

Tourists from the next dystopic world
Peer eagerly as limbs fail to carry
The mind feels mighty distracted too
Wondering why they look so wary

One last time as knees wobble
Cramped shoulders, dry lips and sweaty brow
The entire being begins to tremble
Eyes closed, a leap and all is slow

No ground below, a cliff behind
One final pull, an attempt to reach beyond
Fingertips brush the scaly feathers
Hope he found
To crash softly on jagged ground.