Analysis of The Finest Thread

With the gentleness of moonlight landing on your face, Hope settles over you, wrapping you in a tentative embrace, fragile as gossamer.

You daren't breathe too deeply for fear of tearing this blanket of the most precious and delicate thread, the stuff dreams are woven from.

Will it strengthen? Will it grow? Will little fingers break through from the realm of dreams to clutch your hand on that first day?

Tonight Hope feels a fragile thing, but yesterday didn't exist. That is the thing with Hope, it grows stronger with each passing day, but it's always easy to rip.

Wrap yourself in this most precious cloth, its better than being cold, but you can never quite feel the safety of certainty, this blanket is made of dreams, and dreams care not for reality.