Hope

Hope is a dangerous ally... I lay thinking, staring at the ceiling, as my mind descended into a frenzied calm. How is it so? Was it not my saviour? My friend, my shadow? Why is it now that my virtuous hero, fell short of his gallantry? Was I really delusional, as I foolishly, as concernedly advocated to me, yearned for a love lost, a life bygone and mistakes to be retraced? Was it truly foolish of me, to be idealistic in this realistic world? Mocking to speak philosophically, when I should be doing shots? Why is it delusional, as pointed out by so many, to dream of  love, of peace, of happiness, of freedom, of green fields, azure shores, and clear skies? Why am I only a foolish kid to have the burning pain of indomitable hope, which forbids me from forsaking it all? Why are ideals starry eyed dreams of an immature kid or a fool and not of a painfully wise hermit? This hope, which causes me so much pain, makes me content and blissful in the worldly wonders, keeps me going on when all I want is to lie on my back and fade away, when it reminds me of my existence when its worse than the condemned; why is it foolish of me to possess it and be jested at for it by people who believe in the words of the preacher? Does he not preach of hope? Is hope not love? Is it not faith? Is it not strength? Is it not courage? Is it not forgiveness? Is it not salvation? Then why do they want to strip me of my only possession, my only friend? Why do they mock me so? Is it not virtuous? Then why should it be deemed infantile? Is it because I speak out of my soul, learn from nature, tutored by this beautiful and enigmatic earth? Is it because my hope does not stem from the words of a preacher? Or is it because I have none, or too many?
Staring at the blank ceiling, many an evening passed, this being my musing for the time, as I furrow out of bouts of depression and dreariness. Should I let go of my hope? Is it really more harmful than of help? Would it make me saner? Would it be my saviour this time?Will I attain bliss? Is hope cruel? Are the blue shores really that far? Are the clear skies hard to find? Are the green fields only a myth? Would reality be the cure to my sorrows and sufferings? Does this hope only elongate my sufferings... all this I thought, with many a sighs and tears to interlude. The darkness was comforting, light, through the window, disconcerting... may be hope was indeed a dangerous ally. She gives you refuge in your darkest hour, feeds on your pain, encourages fear and thrives on weakness. May be its silly of me to wish, to hope, for all I've lost, all I've forsaken, and all I pray for.
Tossing and turning, I mused so much, as the night wore off... I gave up... years of hope gave me nothing but pity, of people who laugh at my foolishness. My pain ends here, as of today I shun my dewy eyed dreams... for another life, another time. It was time to see the truth, to be sensible? Now I must learn to live. Resolution in my eyes, I glanced out the window... a few moments ago it seemed the night had darkened the most. I was too late, the darkest hour passed, and as I stared into the sky, it changed hues. Light broke free... slowly from a speck it grew, nebulously, brighter and brighter, till it engulfed the whole of the horizon. In a few moments the sky was light, and a soft breeze blew, embalming me into a trance, soothing my nerves, lulling me into an enthralling calm. And there it was, in my reverie, I saw, the light at the end of the tunnel, dawn after the darkest hour, renewed hope of a new day, of endless opportunities and unknown adventures. Of course I knew it might be just like the day before, but I can never be too sure. I might finally hear the ring of the telephone, finally get that mail, unexpectedly meet that special person, unexpectedly smile and be genuinely happy, see an old lady, next door, ecstatic to have her son visit her, see my naughty little neighbour happily singing to his parents irritation, see the hatchling, perched on the tree outside my house finally spread its wings and fly into the sky. I didn't know what would be my day's events but these were all I could think of. I hoped that this day would be different. This day would be beautiful. This day would give me all I wanted. This day would be the best in my life. And I could only find out by seeing it through. All I could do then, standing in the breezy calm, with a smile on my face and a light in my eyes, was to HOPE. And there, in front of my eyes she was; hope, ethereal embodiment of her fierce beauty, the bright sun. As I contemplated my busy day ahead, my alarm went off, trilling out one of my favourites...  You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one, hope someday you'll join us...