Hope purches in the soul; your persistent presence sometimes faint and yet other times articulate.
Giving setbacks it recoils your strength and retaliates with double force; making you believe hope exists and doesn’t let you regret.
The fragrant tune cannot die down, for the smell lingers on past victories and future projections.
Moving like a swaying flower on a windy day, thinking the future will always be happier if we hold on today’s turbulences with affection.
Not desiring to relinquish hope, tie it to a rope and tow it to safe shores through the gaping cracks in the pavement of your existence.
Let the yacht of hope sail on the safe shores, high tides of outer expectations will keep hitting, ending up with bowed down heads; that’ll be the award of your persistence.
A river rushing, pulled by the current for too long, the Soul is the stillness emanating ripples of wafting belief in tomorrow.
The stone pelting of judgement and hopelessness might distort the ripple in a blow, but the soul along with hope spread their arms to protect it from any such scenario.
Whispering through the disbelief and stampede of monotonous blows, the voice echos through the birth canal of potential..
-“Hold on to it! Hold on to your strength! Look straight.. the tides are getting scattered after hitting you, and you are standing laughing at their fate”
Hope is the remotest to ever depart, where situated the beacon of hope, there is survival.
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