Poetry: Pretty Lies, Abandoned Hope

I grasp so often for illusions

Phantoms born of hope

A touch of misery, certainly

I am told you are out there

That you wait till we find one another

But perhaps they are mistaken

I have searched 

Desperately, at times

All in an attempt to discover you

A figment

A fragment, mayhaps

Of a wish long withered

Shriveled as fruit left too long

Hope will always struggle

When left abandoned

Lost and wandering

Yet finding no home

No place to reside

Bereft of warmth

So cold, near death

Struggling onward

Braving the solitude

Seeking that dim light

It must be beyond the next rise

And all the pretty lies

Unless it too is a ghost

A phantasm

Just a will-o-wisp in the distance

But, just a little father

You must be close

And we return to the pretty lies