All-gifted, all-giving, the gods did provoke,
Relinquished the right, them so to invoke.
Promethean crime, aid for mankind, aroused ire,
Retribution, from gods owning fire.
First woman among us, moulded from earth,
Bestowed by all deities, heavenly blessed.
But cursed by the gifts duality knows.
Determination, Zeus overthrows.
A gift bearing ills in a jar or a box,
Pandora relents and evil unlocks.
But hope still remains for good or for ill
Perception is all when hope does instil
Belief in the story of why god would choose
A mixture of gifts, some evil to use.
Is hope then a curse to action instead
Or essence to reflect on when life’s all but dead?
My hope is a blessing, that hope is a gift,
Enabling souls to elevate, to lift,
When all feels too empty, like box opened wide.
Let hope be the light that remains still inside.
scottishmomus 