The death of hope is silent and slow
Its breath, in whispers, may call
To youth whose innocence afforded its glow
From spring through summer to fall

Its wake is solemn, attended again
By those who envied the fire
To scatter its ashes away to the wind
In a frenzy of selfish desire

They prey in tongues of deception
Away from the rays of the light
In the grays of human reflections
That stray from the reason of sight

Feigning instruction of wisdom
Seining the sands of the soul
Gaming of practiced precision
In sustaining their fortunes of gold

Hold fast to the heart of your vision
For as long as the wind has wings
Alas from the darkness unhidden
To bask in the light of your dreams