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Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
and sings the tunes without the words
and never stops at all.
Yeah, yeah, I know; life is meaningless, nothing you do matters and you’re going to die, yadda yadda yadda. That’s like the pessimistic glass half-empty view, but what does the glass half-full view look like? What’s the bright side? The silver lining? Is there one? After all, that dark side is pretty fuckin’ dark; not a lot of wiggle room.
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"I am out with lanterns, looking for myself."
Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) was an American poet known for her unique, introspective style and innovative use of language. She lived a mostly reclusive life in Amherst, Massachusetts, and wrote nearly 1,800 poems, though only a handful were published during her lifetime. Her work often explores themes of death, immortality, nature, and the human spirit, using short lines, slant rhymes, and unconventional punctuation. Dickinson’s poetry gained widespread recognition only after her death, cementing her as one of America’s greatest and most influential poets.
