I am not a rock,
I may appear strong,
But I split to pieces,
When pushed beyond limits.

Nor I am the valiant dune,
Fighting the wilderness,
As I faintly dissolve,
Like the scribbles on the sand.

Maybe I am that truth,
That is hard to behold,
Beyond you reckon,
That muddles all that you believed to be real.

Or an illusion,
That you think is beyond your reach,
That may leave you with pain,
And a world of unknowns.

If you want,
I could be that wind,
That sweeps you off your feet,
And blinds you with a fragrance,
That lasts for eternity.

Or the moon,
That appears when you need the most,
In darkest of nights,
Spreading light not shimmering,
That soothes your being.

If you can,
Once free your soul from the worldly traps,
Expunge your dreads and any pulsating threats,
You will feel my heartbeat,
Oscillating rhythmically with yours taking us along to a serene abode.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah

2 thoughts on “Dwindled Hope

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