Hope

Today as well, people thronged outside the temple. What brought them there? What made them stay?

People kept searching for the other end of the line, the line that tend to infinite.

People kept searching for a flame to guide them in their darkness.

People kept searching for hope, a hope that kept them alive.

That hobo you judged, settled in the shabby corner of the street, clinking a coin or two in his tin. Lost his family, lost his power, lost himself searching for a reason to exist. Yet amidst the cold night, clasping his hands in front of his small fire, his belief glowed brighter than his bonfire. His hope made it worthwhile.

Watching someone go is very painful. Watching the flat line on the ECG hurt you ever so harder. Your world stopped spinning, things seemed stale, existing was yet another misery. Memories didn’t let that facade of hallucination die.

Hands clutched, head down, tears dried up in those red eyes, you still hoped the still fingers would move, and the flat line would find a wave.

Reality was harsh to accept. Much harder to swallow when blindfolded to consequences. Amidst all the mourning and misery, your idiotic mind found its abode in a world of imagination.

Where dwelling seemed less painful.

Where mind was fed with hope.