Hoping

Hope is a temporary feeling, but persistently knocks the door

It has its own reasons to mediate with the obdurate reality

Tempers simmer… the days feel excruciatingly longer than they are

Of shapes and distortions, objects and their rigid edges

Painful manoeuvring through shrinking spaces- spiteful paths

Opening them for anyone, without understanding their disguise

Guile slithers through the pristine world of hope and love

Nothing is secretive anymore; vilest things are performed at will

Predictable it is… not what the beautiful unpredictability of life is

Antithetical beliefs, false correspondences, and deceiving hope

Hoping to nurture the softness of hope in a hardened reality

~Amitav