A slight prick of hope still remains; if even this fades away, then what else could one possibly desire?

In this couplet, hope is portrayed not as a gentle comfort, but as a restless ache—a subtle thorn that keeps the wounded heart from settling into peace. As long as even a faint flicker of expectation lingers, the soul remains agitated by longing and denial. The poet suggests that once this last trace of hope finally dissolves, one will be liberated from all desire, finding absolute stillness at last.