The Hope Mantra

On the stubble of scorched dreams
I will not dwell, nor with pining
look at the tombs of lost dreams.

I will not let fear haunt me,
of all that is, could have been,
nor rest on stoops of regret.

Their cobwebs clouding my mind
I clean, expel the past’s shame,
and spruce and heal my future.

Nor rest on yesteryear’s laurels
but be fearless today,
for faith promises me a win.

For today, I will plough and sow,
and in the furrows plant seeds,
for the fragrant tomorrows.

I will stand the wind’s buffets,
for in stone have I set my face,
and my sights on the road I travel.

I will not be drawn to dark places,
but drink deep from wisdom’s fountains,
that mark the milestones of time.

I am girded for success,
for today has promised me much,
I’ve set my hand on the plow.

With verve, I savor each moment,
like a merchant, I look for pearls,
each moment treasures my future.

The future in fragrances arises
as, cool dawn breeze from the east,
so, Faith and Hope inspire my soul.

So I plant the seeds of virtues,
as kindness, kindness yields,
and Love in color blankets fields.

I will not fear, for tomorrow,
for the author has written hope,
and described love in fine detail.

He has redeemed and ransomed me,
before I knew I was lost, he found me,
and hiked me on his shoulders.

I ride on the shoulders of mercy,
in the strength of his compassion,
a sparrow, I rest in his warm comfort.

For who can bend a hair,
of whom The Lord protects?
I lean on his comfort and strength.

© 2017 – 2018, Charlie Bottle. All Rights Reserved © 2009 www. coelhos.us All Rights Reserved

Author: Charlie Bottle

Charlie Bottle's passion is poetry. He has lived on three continents, speaks five languages and loves different cultures, people, music and food. He believes that "Poetry uses the economy of words to express the essence of our humanity." It is this magical use of brevity to express the profound that drew him to poetry. While his professional and personal life has pulled him in different directions, He continues in his discipleship of the craft and writes whenever the muse moves him. While English is his second language it is the language in which he lives, breathes, thinks and writes poetry.