What if love is finite.
Could you wake one day
And find it gone.
Exhausted,
Consumed.
If love is that ephemeral
What hope is there?
What certainty or assurity
Can we rely on.
The futures that we build
Are built of dreams.
Illusion.
Born of hope in desperation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
..........hope is not tangible.....hope is an idea.....hope is a feeling....hope is something we feel inside our hearts....never give it up....