The Closet Optimist

Every time I see a spark

of hope in me

I feel crushed.

Nope.
I will not have this beautiful feeling
of both unease and joy
Dictate my life
only to have me reeling
At the last moment,
As clouds of doubt seeded
From both skeptic and cynic
Makes me wonder-
is this still worth it?

The startup that wasn't supported

The project that wasn't funded

The relationship that never got the right chance

The health that did a deadly dance

All seemingly bright and beautiful

at first glance?

My reluctance as an optimist

Perhaps is a silent tribute

to all those left in the mist

With A Bewildered face

and an Angry Fist

That's shaking at the world

as they get hurled.

Many of us, then,

The other garden variety of dreamers

The closet optimists

We won't get taken to the cleaners.

We believe in the goodness of a thing

As we wait for the rest of the damn world

To get the right neurons firing

But hope we won't

Although

Dreaming we can't avoid

We accept the non acceptance

with equanimity if not poise.