Beware the word that hides its face,
A hope disguised in tight embrace.
For when we say, “I expected this,”
We mean, “The facts I did dismiss.”

 

Expectations come with costs,
A setup for a future loss.
When things go left instead of right,
We blame ourselves or start a fight.

 

Let go the bind, release the strain,
There’s deeper power without the pain.
Anticipate, intend, believe—
Be careful not to self-deceive.

 

Anticipation dreams with grace,
No blame, no shame within that space.
It smiles at joy that might arise,
Yet cries no blame where hopes have died.

 

Intention walks a grounded way,
With daily acts that shape the play.
It owns the risk, accepts the game,
No loss of worth, no guilt, no shame.

 

Prediction leans on learned insight,
A guess informed by inner light.
How close or far it from where it lands,
There’s only wisdom that expands.

 

And faith, that gentle sacred spark,
Believes in dawn amid the dark.
It trusts the gifts in what may come,
Even when it seems like scum.

 

Let go the bind, release the strain,
There’s deeper power beyond the pain.
Anticipate, intend, believe—
Be careful not to self-deceive.

 

With words we carve the paths we tread,
And live by tools shaped in our head.
To build the life we want to see,
The truth, indeed, will set us free.