Hope – Page 9 – Hearts Still Care

A Fool’s Hope

Published on August 2, 2017August 2, 2017 by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Everything is right.
Everything seems fine.
Everything is love.
Everything has time.

The flowers will not die.
The food will not go bad.
The water will not dry.
The smile will not be sad.

This love is here to stay,
That is what lovers say,
There is no need to fear,
It’ll be here everyday.

Loneliness won’t occur,
For promises are made;
No one betrays hope here,
No memory shall fade.

I won’t be left alone,
That can’t ever be true;
You love me very much,
Much more than I do you.

Time can’t rage its battle;
Love cures all that pains;
Life has no mastery,
No one hears it’s complaints.

Losing you isn’t possible,
It’s never been so before;
No one leaves love’s house,
Once you’ve shut the door.

I worry needlessly:
Everyone holds me dear;
You most of all (I think)
Give me no cause to fear.

Summer Day

Published on December 12, 2016June 18, 2020 by Harpreet Chhachhia4 Comments

Good things do not last long, it’s the truth;
They fade out, they vanish, they end;
I keep thinking they will last, last through time;
I cling on to hope, I grasp, I even pretend.

The good is relative, the wise ones say;
The good comes and goes only to come again.
The wise ones nod their wise heads and ask:
What is it that I really hope to retain?

I do not like the wise, they instil doubt;
They make the good not seem so good;
And I wonder if I hope, for what was that?
And if I hope again, if I really should?

I think and I think and wisdom surfaces;
I can almost feel the wise ones smile;
I see myself a little clearer, the same truth,
That I disregarded for a little while.

It is a sign of a deep seeded analysis,
Of some jargon from freudian slips,
Of hurt that male figures left behind,
On my doubtful soul, on my hungry lips.

I see this truth again, and feel the scorn
Of all those who claim to be so very wise;
I see myself as I forever have,
Through the ones I want, their very eyes.

I wish I knew how to make peace
With this clueless boy within me.
How do I make him understand
All that is but what he cannot see?

The perspective of self, mirror and eyes,
Will always wary, so maybe stick to one?
The wise ones will always say, perhaps,
There is no choice, when there is but one sun.

So as wisdom prevails I must tell him
Look to self, let mirror and eyes shatter;
Men will come and go, come and go,
It’s only you that will, in the end, matter.