...

When terror claims where peace should reign
Despair finds company there.

Where "hope" seems but a hollowed out sign
with no significance to spare

The hard faced question drills its way
then, back into position:

Is there horizon and what does it mean
for sight seems a sole solution.

If the senses cannot process this,
or verify existence

How can that distant line remain
Mid terror's plaguing instance?

The line called distant is actually there,
By virtue of terrestrial curve

Even if terror's impenetrable night
cannot lucidity serve.

So then is hope, a matter of will,
Or a choice in perspective due,

For somehow horizon always dawns
After nightfall's interminable hue.

Hope exists like earth's round way,
though the senses may not perceive

Hope's purpose or nocturnal mode
of operation wholly unseen.