When you’re in the middle of a depressive bout Hope is on short supply. Hope to get through it as intact as possible. Hope that you’ll actually get through it. That the siren’s call won’t get you and you’ll wake each day until The Black Fog passes.
When you’re feeling stable, Hope that it lasts keeps you going. Hope that you won’t crash. Hope that you won’t fly. (Though to be honest the early stages of flight can be fun). For me when I’m feeling good Hope is a cloud of colour and I’m surrounded by a Black Fog trying to encroach on my current state.
The colours exist
Surrounded by a cloud of Darkness
The colours ebb and flow
Like the tide
The Black Fog
Fighting to encroach
To kill the Joy
That brings the brilliant hues
To vibrant life
Their endangered existence
Threatened by
Eternal Ebony clouds
Descent Rising 