Hope is that garuda, Emily Dickinson!: A poem

Hope is not just a small bird with a feather,

but even if it is a little tuneful bird in its nest,

it is winsome! For, little may be the relevance

of a diminutive person, his hope is large. All

treachery that makes filial loyalties become

the braveheart’s sinkhole can be managed with

patience. All braveheart’s that believe in justice

take the most tortuous paths in belief. And the victims

rise from graves to become reincarnates that

subjugate the wile and evil. Hope is an enormity, Emily,

lying seemingly irrelevant on the underside of

destiny, but prepared to break out at the right

time to give re-life to the righteousness. Brethren,

Pater Familias, can unawaresly rise up in arms for virtue!

This help may not be asked for, but be surprisingly

forthcoming, like a serendipity amid the grief and enervation!

Hope is a garuda, a deterministic vimana, its manifestation

may seem long in the coming, but is absolutely timely; Thus, hope

is mythic and, yet, telling! There is no greater reality than faith!