Just Manoe · Sep 19, 2026

Hope

Play to hear in the writer's voice

There's that ember among dying embers holding on to dreams of becoming a bonfire. Pushed on by visions of diesel rains. Unfazed by the distant din of reality or its screaming chimes when the fog has fled from the gaze of a blazing sun.

There's that exhausted Island, fighting for breath in oceans deep, where fairy tales live on white sandy beaches, under coconut rows; swallowed by melting ice from the homes of seals, penguins and polar bears. Spurred on by the dreams of a non-carbon-emitting world hidden in rainforests.

There's that kid who lost her first tooth; kept awake by the distant footsteps, honey oiled voice and rosy fragrance of the tooth fairy.

There's that kid on a floating plank. Rocked to sleep by waves and rising tides in Mediterranean's arms ;hanging on to visions of emerald cities, with rivers of peace and floods of opportunity.

There's that kid curled up by a Christmas tree dreaming of Santa bringing daddy home from the bellies of war on reindeer carts.

There's hope staring down from beyond nebulas and stars, beyond heavens and hells, beyond jaws of beasts and serpentine fangs moved to tears;pulling with a titan's might, a world holding on to her with its every sweat