Hope, prayer, intent by rickiT

 Hope, prayer, intent

Hope arrives uninvited,
soft and absurd—
laughter in the wrong room,
the scent of rain in a locked house.
It makes no case,
needs no evidence.
It is breath before the plan,
murmur behind silence,
the flicker of something
beyond reason’s edge.
Not certainty—never certainty—
but the feeling that perhaps,
just perhaps,
this time
might be different.
We hold it gently, 
as if it could break.
We feed it small phrases:
maybe,
what if,
let’s see.

Then perhaps prayer,
slow and aching,
reaching without grip.
We speak into air,
as though it listens—
as though the weight
might shift
if we place it in careful words.
But the sky does not bend.
No voice returns.
Only the hum of a world
carrying on
without interest.
Yet, we pray.
What else can we do
with the want?
With the waiting?
Prayer is less a request
than a ritual letting go—
not surrendering the dream,
but surrendering the illusion.

So we rise,
intent replacing belief.
It does not glow.
It does not sing.
It sharpens,
narrows,
sets its jaw,
and moves.
Intent is careless of readiness.
It does not need a lighted path.
It simply begins—
one step,
then another,
dragging the body,
pulling the spirit behind it
like a cart with a broken wheel.
This is not hope.
This is not faith.
It is motion
born of necessity.
Nothing answered.
Nothing done.
And despite it all,
we go.

rickiT – 2025