Hope is so Stubborn

Photo by Zwaddi, Unsplash

The morning arrives with a fist full of hope. Every single day. Then the new day moves ahead, the fist loosens, like it's tired, and hope slips, slowly, through the crevices of the fingers. Evaporates, mercilessly, but not entirely. It lingers, preparing for the next day.

Hope dwindles but refuses to go. It's so stubborn!

सुबह आती है और साथ लाती है एक मुट्ठी उम्मीद। हर रोज़। दिन चढ़ता है, और मुट्ठी ढीली होने लगती है, मानो थक गयी हो। और फिर उम्मीद उन पोरों से फिसलने ...