On Hope

by Sravanthi Vallampati



Preface:
An artist’s depiction of his desperate state of body and mind as he struggles to find his muse.

A unique sort of pleading monologue, an appeal to the Gods of the creative process to preside over with a smile, so thoughts that demand to be distilled can journey into this world that seems to hold promise to all but him!Though his thoughts bleed with despair, Hope springs eternal in his heart....



My desolate thoughts drift aimlessly into the midnight calm,
I despair, perched on a wall, untold woes my soul’s endur’d;
Bleak promise of bread, tattered garb, soul rife with indigence,
no industry doth suit my desires, my guised maiden eludes still;

To the tide of time stands, my frail body an arduous testimony,
Many have come and gone, their shining masterpieces sporting;
Convict of my own affliction, unyielding conviction, I, my saboteur,
aching for thy je ne sais quoi to carve my oeuvre, ardor ignite!

I feed on dreams of hope through the wakeful night, dreams
that succor me tread the tempestuous raillery of existence,
for, tomorrow may be the morn that brings on its swift wings,
my glimmer of heavenly Hope – my calling, my muse!

Descend on me like the twilight I see from this lowly gutter;
By design or happenstance, Descend, so I may rise to meet thee!
Let me rejoice in your attendance or be consumed by acute privation
should destiny keep you from awarding me sweet deliverance.

Let me not ever awake, lie an appalling waste in my eternal dream,
But take away not mine beloved treasure from me, I implore you!
For my love of life, Hope is all I have,
for triumph or tragedy, Hope is all I will.