Hope and Love

“I don’t know who I am,” you say,

“Or why my hands deal dust,

As though the lot of cards I hold

Have crumbled as I play.”

“As if my sense of self,” you claim,

“Has drifted into air,

And nothing that I try to do

Brings credit to my name.”

Name and Game are not the way

To find the solid ground;

Hope and Love are better paths

For what ahead may lay.

Attend and listen deep within.

Though hard to hear the voice

Calling out to you alone

In such a world of din,

The voice is patient, and will sing

The notes that help you close the ring.

—Jared Curtis