for every year perhaps…
I wonder, if the coming year would be
different for me than the previous lot
and better perhaps, I hope, than the current one!
So you see, hope is not dead yet, it sings
in tune, with all the citizens across
the colonized continents of the ageing world.
Hope, that dreams, in silence, of a new start
and, promises to be more vigilant this time,
though I must admit that the pessimist
is alive too, caged around the contour
of my battered soul, bleeding from too many wounds.
From there it questions me, “The sun that shall
rise tomorrow, does it know that we have
marked it as the beginning of another year?”