Pandora's hope 

The age of man brought pain and anguish. The Gods watched and waited; observing as the world fell into ruin and hatred. One man stood alone on the edge of a cliff watching as the world he loved was destroyed and as he took his last breath one word escaped him. The one word that had changed them all.

"Pandora."

Before the rulings of Kings, the Gods reigned above, lounging in luxury and gold as they watched humans walk around in peace. Yet this serenity was warped and cruel. They spent endless days in the dark - not a thought, not a laugh and not even a tear. They were nothing.

That is until Prometheus stole fire.

For years he had pleaded with the Gods, begged them to have compassion, his love for the humans were outmatched and in his desperate attempt to give them the power of thought; the power of hope, he had defied the Gods.

Zeus' anger was unmatched he roared above the clouds.

"Let them freeze," he bellowed in Prometheus' face. "They are nothing but clay and darkness."

"But they could be more."

That sentence condemned not only Prometheus but all of humankind. Zeus gave a bellowing laugh, one so cold and cruel that even Prometheus' blazing fire began to dim.

"Fine," the King of Gods pronounced. "I shall give them a gift more beautiful than anything in this world. Beautiful yet terrible enough to ruin mankind."

He began to create his beautiful curse.

Summoning Hephaestus, he commanded him to forge a woman from the most beautiful of clays- skin so smooth the sun reflected off it, lips so red they were like blood and eyes so bright they burned like fire.

Aphrodite gave her immense beauty; Hermes charm and Athena cloaked her in gold and silver.

But then with all the vengeance and hatred Zeus could offer he gave her curiosity. And so, Pandora was created, "all-gifted" yet also "all-cursed".

She was perfection.

Prometheus knew of the horrors Zeus could bestow on him and so warned his brother to not accept the gifts that Zeus would offer.

"He does not give. He takes."

However, Epimetheus was slow and vain, he looked upon Pandora's beauty and ignored every desperate warning coming out his brother's mouth.

He would betray humanity for her love.

And he did.

Pandora was so full of life her eyes glistened when she thought of every animal and human on this earth. She was so full of wonder and hope she could not imagine ever suffering. Yet even though she was so happy her mind was curious, and she had a hunger for knowledge like no other.

"Why is the sky blue?"

"Who created the Gods?"

"Where does the sun go at night?"

And most often:

"Why was I made?"

Epimetheus would brush off her questions just content to hear her voice but what he did not know was that she was not only the gift Zeus had bestowed upon his household. Hermes had given her a beautiful box with ornate etchings of gold and string made from clouds.

But this gift came with a catch.

Never to be opened.

At first this came easily to her. Why should she open it? But curiosity wove away at her, she pulled out half of her hair, her once pristine face was covered in deep lines and every day, every night it called to her, begging to be opened.

And so, she did.

She broke the lid.

The world screamed, out poured pain and shadow.

She was drowning in fear – sorrow slashed at her once perfect face, hate hammered into her skull, famine tore at her with sharp teeth, war clawed at her lips, and they bled the sorrows of human, lies snaked around her like millions of serpents, betrayal battered her around the room, and she begged and begged and begged Zeus for help.

And he laughed.

His laughter filled the air as millions of humans were tortured, killed and abused.

And he laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Until the box was nearly empty.

A soft glow cut through the never-ending darkness.

Hope.

She laughed through tears. Hope had saved her – saved them all.

Small.

Beautiful.

The savior.

Its voice cut through the darkness as soft as a child.

"I am hope."

And pandora wept.

And wept.

And wept.

Hope didn't save those who pain had hurt.

Wars still killed, lies still shattered lives, famine still took the bravest.

But she still followed all this heartbreak. The little voice in the back of their heads.

Hope was never meant to destroy the pain.

It was not meant to save the world.

It was meant to outlast the heartbreak.

Outlast the pain.

Outlast the lives.

Outlast Zeus and those just like him.

Hope was meant to empower.

And that is what she did.

Centuries later a man kneels on the ground, hands shaking, tears streaming down his face. He heard screams, gunshots and then silence. He is afraid. The sky is darkened. The world he knew is gone. He closed his eyes.

The war carries on.

His world stops.

Yet he cannot.

He stands up.

Picks up his fallen comrade's gun and walks on.

He whispers, "There's still hope."

The village she lived in was crumbling around her. She longed for food and water. She longed to see her family again. She longed for the sky to rain again. She prayed and prayed to every God watching down.

Yet no miracle came.

She stands up and walks out.

Out into the streets.

Out into the pain.

Then through the midst of all the grieving bodies a voice ring out.

A young boy with a guitar. Singing.

"For the hope of it all." He sang.

And she felt free.

The small girl stood watching. Watching as her father was pulled to the other side. Watching as her mother cried her name. She watched as they were taken to a better future while she was left behind. She heard her brother's voice.

"One day," he muttered.

Then suddenly his voice lifted above the crying and protests-

"One day! One day this wall will fall. There is hope, and hope does not give up. No matter how hard things get, we never lose faith. We must be brave enough to fight it. Tonight is not a night for pain or suffering it is a night for freedom and hop-"

She watched as the light left his body. The gun shot fills the air.

She ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And ran.

She didn't cry.

She didn't scream.

She just kept running.

Running towards something new.

Running for those who can no longer run.

Running for joy.

Running for compassion.

Running for integrity.

Running for curiosity.

Running for generosity.

Running for courage.

Running for the soldier.

Running for the hunger-stricken girl.

Running for her brother.

Running for Pandora.

Running for fire.

Running and running.

Always running for hope.