I think Emily Dickinson Might Have Been Mistaken

The tiny bird moved back and forth in her closed, cupped hands. She could feel its strong wings pushing against her palms, and could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath its warm chest.
She marveled at the wallop this small bird packed. Gathering her courage, she tentatively separated her hands an inch or so in order to say good bye to this little bird. Hope -- this thing with feathers that perched in her soul, that sang the tune without the words, and never stopped at all. Never. Ever. Ever. Stopped.
Fearful of the unknown, she nonetheless knew it was time to say good bye. They'd outgrown each other, gone as far as they could in their relationship. She knew Hope's Greatest Hits by heart -- the one where the ground would finally stop shifting beneath her, the one where she'd one day not only make it, but stay there (where ever "it" and "there" were.) The one where all the loose ends would be neatly tied up. The one where one day she would arrive, fully-formed, as the person she was supposed to be. And all the time she'd been Hope's biggest fan, this innocent looking little bird had been robbing her blind. Over and over again, it had stolen the present moment from her. She had been mesmerized by its star power and hypnotized by its beautiful songs. Hope had swooped up from her soul, carrying her away from Reality, whom she had tossed by the side of the road with barely a glance back. Hope dazzled her with its live show -- and she followed it from arena to arena, giddy over its promises of something better, prettier, faster, longer-lasting (pleasure!), shorter-lived (pain!), and/or more permanent or less permanent, and which, it sang, could only be found in the future.
She took one last glance at the bird in her hands. She turned her palms upward, said good bye, and Hope took flight. (She thought she caught a look of relief on its face as it flew toward the setting sun.)
She brushed her hands together, still warm from its touch, and looked back at the road behind her. Plumes of dust rose from the gravel as she saw Reality trudging slowly toward her. Ah, Reality. Not always what she wanted, but always there. He reached her side. They stood together for a moment, saying nothing. Their eyes turned toward the sky, empty now of Hope, and together in silence they watched the sun drop below the horizon. Reality put his hand on her shoulder, and together they turned and began to walk the dusty road home.