Excerpts from A Poem on Hope:
It is hard to have hope. It is harder as you grow old.
for hope must not depend on feeling good,
and there’s the dream of loneliness at absolute midnight.
You also have withdrawn belief in the present reality of the future,
which surely will surprise us, and hope is harder when it cannot come by
prediction anymore than by wishing. But stop dithering. The young ask the old to
hope. What will you tell them? Tell them at least what you say to yourself.
Find your hope, then, on the ground under your feet.
Your hope of heaven, let it rest on the ground underfoot.
The world is not better than its places. Its places at last are no better than their
people while their people continue in them. When the people make dark the light
within them, the world darkens.