Hope Lives On Peaks And Vales

Man when caveman bordered on the crudest, Ere civil was he made, made nigh modest, And in a painstaking long march indeed, A seed mutated, evolving with creed, A seed that struggled hard ere succeeding, Many a weed losing ere mutating, From labyrinthine dark alleys and maze, From chaos were created newer ways. There's no progress that would never plateau, When heart would vacillate with go no-go, And what for years a steady progress was, Begins to lose out on some strange new cause, And starts breaking many a seed-sprout chain, Creation's womb as if bears no birth pain, The mountain peaks begin to seek new vales, Further downhill seem to wind all new dales. And when hope approaches the highest peak, Oh why we endeavour valleys to seek? ______________________________________________________ Heart it seems lives on the edge of hope; but the brooding mind delves into new depths, meandering, groping for a way out. Seeing the way much of the world is moving today, I too oft indulge in melancholic thoughts. Has man lost all hopes? I don't know but hope not. Yet, civilisation, I suspect, is a bell-shaped curve. Read also ‘Hope: A bird wordless that sings' ______________________________________________________ Musings | 03.02.11 |