I read your poem and felt it like the end of a dystopian story or the beginning of a utopian story. In both versions, hope comes to save the world. Only hope is capable of turning the world into a luminous womb, a good land, like the small hut that serves to shelter us when it rains. There are fierce days, like the ones we live, relentless, in which we must take hope and carry it, like someone carries a lamp, and illuminate the darkest places. A nice Saturday, my friend. Hugs