for a long, long time, i saw hope as nothing more than a prayer. a prayer to the self, maybe, or to the stars, a written stamp of approval that you got etched in your mind after you'd fallen on your knees and smiled at the gods and goddesses and proved to them that you really had faith in your back pockets. neatly tucked in. folded, but not frayed at the edges. a soft awakening, maybe. a song. a promise.
and maybe, it could be, for those not having seen tragedy, for all those who hadn't been punched in the eyelids, knocked over through their knees, beaten black and blue and bruised. my younger, naïve, childlike being believed it was nothing more than that: a mere complimentary ticket to life, something of your own choosing, a technical aid that leaned more on the cosmic side.
but then the tragedy hits. or the tragedies do, because most of us usually can take a hit, even if it's directly to our solar plexus. and the world starts crumbling like a biscuit, the colours fade, the meaning loses itself.. you get the picture. and then you start to see hope as what it actually is. how it is a crutch, more than a accessory, how you can't live with it, (well, maybe you can survive, sure, but living? not really.) at least, for the most part.
and then one day you wake up, and you're staring at life directly in the eye, (considering you finally can, since there's no light there) and life is looking back at you, their head hung low, a cloud of disappointment over their head with a tag that reads: The Future™, you finally see hope for what it was- the only thing you were balancing on, the only thing keeping you alive, keeping you sane, keeping you you.
and you slowly realise why half the world's population is alive. what anne frank was living on and what mother teresa was distributing to people. why people still held on- it was because they still saw a future for themselves, saw a promise in their futures. it was saving lives, everywhere, every minute, every second, even with no base, without any logic, without any argument. it just existed, and made people have faith, have courage in their dreams, their conquests. it made living possible, and then it made living better.
so what I'm getting around to, after all this.. is that hope saves lives. and even if you don't think that something good might occur, induce hope. inject hope in people even if you think there's no logic behind it, give them that extra push, because hope multiplies and acts like pixie dust- just the right amount of magic: incredible, unbelievable, and impossibly possible all at once.
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Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
