Week Eight

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me."  ~Emily Dickinson

 

There

is

always

Hope. 

 

Never let it go. Yet if you must, let it go only so that it may soar high with outstretched wings, to alight within the heart of someone who needs it.