As the last arbiter of desperate men and
saviour of the lucky (or so they believe),
my presence inspires their greatest work
and my absence pushes them off of cliffs.
Trusted mainly by the foresaken because
they've convinced themselves to believe,
and the already glorified often pretend
I played no part in their uncanny success.
Anathema to misery and counterpoint to futility,
I'm a friend to every man but only the lonely need me;
I offer the promise of sweet whispers and
threaten you with the sound of your own tears.
More than all of the above though
I am a blessing and a curse,
the first thing to be abandoned
and the last to be unleashed.
What am I?