“Where hope grows, miracles blossom.”
When you think all is lost, when all seems dire and bleak, there is always hope. Having hope is like taking your next breath, breathing.
‘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.
Hope is that wonderful thing, found in each of us, bringing light into the darkest of places.
Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”
Martin Luther King