Hope knocks gently.
But it always waits for you to open the door.

Hope is not naive.
It’s resilient.
It’s defiant.
It’s the soft light that refuses to die, even underground.

It lives quietly in your chest.
Not loud. Not flashy.
But steady, like breath, or roots, or a flicker that won’t go out.

Hope says:
“There is more than this.”
“You are not finished.”
“Possibility is still possible.”

What Is Hope Trying to Tell You?

• You still believe in change, even if you’re afraid to admit it.
• Your longing is a map, not a flaw.
• You are allowed to want more, even after pain.
• Small lights still count.

Invite Hope in for Tea

It might feel too bright, too tender, too exposed.
You might want to shut the curtains on it.
But it doesn’t need your confidence. Just your curiosity.

Ask it:
“What would I do if I believed this could change?”
“What part of me still wants to try?”
“What is the tiniest next step toward light?”

Hope is not a promise, it’s a path.
One breath. One decision. One small opening at a time.

“There’s a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
— Leonard Cohen