Enraged I stand.
In devastation I look at the dilapidated state of things and the mesmerizing possibilities which has been stolen from us. What do we do? Do we fight for our freedom? But no strength remains in our bones. Do we stand in awe of what unfolds before our very eyes? But our own eyes are dimmed by the suffering which we behold. Do we sing? But our voices are too coarse from shouting and wailing. And just as I look up, a faint smile I see, on the face of one who seems too old to be. He smiles and beams a gladdening symbol on his chest.
It says "HOPE".
