Recently, I have been revisiting Dante’s Divine Comedy, focusing specifically on Paradiso. This journey through Dante’s celestial spheres has inevitably planted within me thematic thoughts of hope, inspiring me to put pen to paper and author a new poem. This sudden burst of creativity, whether of any merit or not, has taken me by surprise. Nonetheless, I have relished the productivity, regardless of its outcome.
For several days, I awoke each morning with my mind fixated on the theme of hope, having pondered over the topic in my sleep with deliberate contemplation. Earlier this week, I awoke with a fully outlined sketch of a poem, realizing that hope, as a concept, evolves dramatically through the stages of life.
In childhood, hope is almost an unknown entity, as we scarcely need it, trusting that nearly every need and desire will be met. This is largely because our understanding of the world and its possibilities is limited. As we grow older, hope becomes more pronounced, with the belief that if we hope earnestly enough, we can obtain almost anything. In young adulthood, this transforms into the conviction that hard work will inevitably lead to the fulfillment of our hopes.
However, as we enter middle age, our perception of hope shifts once again. We begin to see it as a plea, tempered by the realities of justice and merit. By old age, if not earlier, we recognize that despite our hopes and best efforts, many who work hard are denied the fruits of their labor, and many who deserve much are denied their due. By the time silver graces our brow, a bemused smile often accompanies our thoughts of hope, seasoned by the wisdom of experience. We come to understand that hope should not be centered on what we aspire for, but rather on what we can give to others—justice, fulfilled dreams, love, acceptance, and comfort. These are the gifts that we once hoped for ourselves and now, perhaps, are in a position to bestow upon others. If we had any intelligence and kindness, we were doing so all along.
Reflecting on my college years, I recall considering myself an optimistic pessimist. Schopenhauer’s works on pessimism were light reading in those days. Despite this, I was not afraid to embrace hope, recognizing its necessity throughout life. This philosophical introspection led me to author a poem, which I have set to music courtesy of Udio.com. I am pleased with the results and plan to eventually set it to a worthy video. For now, it is available as an audio track with the lyrics provided below.
LYRICS TO “HOPE’S JOURNEY: A TAPESTRY OF LIFE”
Stage I: Childhood
In the garden of my youth, every dream was mine,
Hope was just a whisper, a secret so divine.
No need to chase the stars, they’d fall into my hand,
In a world of endless wonders, a magic wonderland.
Chorus:
Hope, it morphs and changes, like the tides of life’s great sea,
From dreams of youth to wisdom’s truth, in each phase we’ll see.
In the tapestry of time, it weaves a story bold and true,
Hope’s enduring presence, guiding us through all we do.
Stage II: Young Adulthood
As a young and daring heart, hope became my creed,
Believing in the odds, I’d conquer every need.
With faith and fierce conviction, the future seemed so bright,
The power of my spirit, would always lead to light.
Chorus:
Hope, it morphs and changes, like the tides of life’s great sea,
From dreams of youth to wisdom’s truth, in each phase we’ll see.
In the tapestry of time, it weaves a story bold and true,
Hope’s enduring presence, guiding us through all we do.
Stage III: Adulthood
In the prime of my endeavor, hope was like a flame,
If I worked with all my might, I’d win the endless game.
Justice and ambition, tempered with the real,*
A dance of dreams and struggles, the balance I could feel.
Chorus:
Hope, it morphs and changes, like the tides of life’s great sea,
From dreams of youth to wisdom’s truth, in each phase we’ll see.
In the tapestry of time, it weaves a story bold and true,
Hope’s enduring presence, guiding us through all we do.
Stage IV: Middle Age
In the heart of middle age, hope became a plea,
An appeal to justice, to merit and integrity.
Tempered by the trials, and the lessons learned in time,
Hope was now a beacon, in a world less sublime.
Chorus:
Hope, it morphs and changes, like the tides of life’s great sea,
From dreams of youth to wisdom’s truth, in each phase we’ll see.
In the tapestry of time, it weaves a story bold and true,
Hope’s enduring presence, guiding us through all we do.
Stage V: Old Age
In the twilight of my days, hope seems like a dream,
A foolish, fleeting fancy, yet it makes me beam.
A smile in reflection, of a life so richly lived,
Hope was a companion, in the gifts that life could give.
Chorus:
Hope, it morphs and changes, like the tides of life’s great sea,
From dreams of youth to wisdom’s truth, in each phase we’ll see.
In the tapestry of time, it weaves a story bold and true,
Hope’s enduring presence, guiding us through all we do.
Journey’s End:
So here I stand, at journey’s end, with hope a fading light,
A smile upon my weathered face, as day turns into night.
For hope has been my constant friend, through every twist and bend,
A timeless song within my heart, until the very end.
* I have revised this line in Stage III for future “publications” to read: “Ambition was my compass, guiding through the real,” as it was too redundant of the thoughts and words in Stage IV.
Art Credits for the YouTube Video:
Stage I: Childhood
The Voyage of Life: Childhood (oil on canvas, 1842) by Thomas Cole (1801-1848). National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.
Stage II: Young Adulthood
Liberty Leading the People (oil on canvas, 1830) by Eugène Delacroix (1798-1863). Louvre Museum, Paris.
Stage III: Adulthood
The Fog Warning (oil on canvas, 1885) by Winslow Homer (1836–1910). Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Stage IV: Middle Age
Nighthawks (oil on canvas, 1942) by Edward Hopper (1882-1967). Art Institute of Chicago.
Stage V: Old Age
The Starry Night (oil on canvas, 1889) by Vincent van Gogh(1853-1890). Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Journey’s End
The Monk by the Sea (oil on canvas, 1808–10) by Caspar David Friedrich(1774-1840). Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin.
Northcoast Antiquarian 