... I Hope

“....I hope that the map of tears formed on your pillow in the dark guides you to light and perfection.
I hope that your feigned smile transcends into reality.
I hope that you are really cool with the flaws you play mockery to yourself with.
I hope that you get that sum from God out of your future money before it is dusk today.

I hope that your breasts be suckled for nurture.
I hope the cry of a baby and the Joys of Motherhood be yours.
I hope the weight of the burden you bear does not arc your shoulders or break your bones.
I hope that man never goes Out of his Mind; I hope The Tempest roars: “Bury me come Sunday afternoon!”

I hope that behind your “God when” pictures with your lover are satisfaction and bliss
I hope that the euphoria you feel transcends into something worthwhile.
I hope your muse doesn't grow cold and silent on you.
I hope you are really fine when you say so.

I hope your shards of a broken mirror make you see how great you can be.
I hope your gait of dignity never be dropped, even when brokenness of heart comes.
I hope you are fit enough to blow life back when it hits.
I hope you can stand up for yourself when the thieves of dignity and prudence come.

I hope that your sickness wanes away, and your healthy heart and bones bounce back.
I hope that your empty stares into the space don't increase the hurt; I hope it doesn’t burrow more vacuums.

I hope you can stand for the truth; I hope you know the color of truth; I hope that the truth sets you free.
I hope you feel serenity like the sea in its calm element, and that the gush of wind takes your aches with it.

I hope the demon; The Thing Around Your Neck never strangles you out of Life; I hope you are strong enough to exorcise them.
I hope your prayers and offering go up to your supreme like flames from the burning incense in the thuribble.
I hope the voices in your head don't overcome the gentle one that whispers how your dreams aren't farfetched.
I hope that sadness and despair don’t eat you deep like a cankerworm; I hope the cancer of gloom you carry heals forever.

I hope the work you put in and the smears of dirt it brings don't break your waist or stain your faith.
I hope the toil yields not sour grapevine; I hope the cobs you get are filled and savory.
I hope that after the brightness of the day, insomnia doesn’t taunt you when the day is gray.
I hope that your eyelids and mind rest like a lulled baby.

I hope.
I hope again.
I keep the hope alive.
I hope you reading this see this as a beacon of hope and ray of joy.”

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