Hope is a tiny bird,

Against the gales

Which flies,

Ignoring probabilities,

Classifying them as

Lies.

Hope is a pollen grain

Unknown of its

Following fate,

Tagging along with

Bugs and winds,

Hoping

To reach a mate.

Hope is the lady

That sits on the world,

Her ever-seeing eyes,

Covered by the blindfold

Hoping

For music

From the last string

Of the Golden harp

Her arms hold.

~Ajay

March 2017