We stand before them, knuckles raised, In silence and in prayer, To knock upon the wood of dreams, And find what waits in there.
Hope’s doors are not destinations; they are transitions. Life is a corridor of doors: one closes behind you as another awaits ahead. The tragedy is not finding a door locked; the tragedy is refusing to test the handle. In the end, hope is not about certainty of a happy outcome—it is the courage to step into the hallway, trusting that doors exist even in the dark. hopes doors
What does a door of hope look like? It varies by circumstance: We stand before them, knuckles raised, In silence