This Thing Called Hope – Sonnet XXXIII

I try to Apprehend This Thing Called Hope;
A look ahead that Waits for Good Preferred.
But I know Future hangs by Fraying Rope.
Expectant Joy is often Mirth Deferred.
How do I reconcile “Today” with “Plans”
Which promised Different Outcomes in my Head?
The Castle neatly formed with Sand and Hands,
Stray wave Lays Waste – can’t help but feel Misled.
But New Days Dawn, and so I must Prepare;
With Carpe Diem, seize the morrow, too;
Although my Foreseen “Hope Will Bring” is Rare.
Beyond today will be, by nature, true.
So pushing on, I live my Best Todays
And Trust Tomorrow’s Hope will Suit our Ways.