Hope come from many sources.  Some unexpected and with unexpected results.  Told in an old-world style that will be unusual to some, this story evokes the feeling of the great myths that are passed generation to generation as part of oral cultures.
 

     The story is told of the time when the sands nearly swallowed our people. In this time there was no hope, no thought for the future. Hope had been replaced by worry, worry by fear, and fear by desperation. Desperation led to conflicts and to the gradual abandonment of the works that the ancestors had scraped from the dunes. The story tells of a time when hope had been defeated by hopelessness.

     The hopelessness had been driven on the winds. For weeks that grew into months and months that lengthened to years, the winds had blown off of the great deserts of Zangaria. The tireless gales carried with then the fine sands of the dunes. The sands piled against our buildings, scoured the fields, and silted the wells. The wind’s ceaseless pounding burned the ears of our people - whistling through their dreams and powdering their food with grit. There was no reprieve from the winds, no escaping the sands.