Hope, a Sorceress

Hope sometimes could be a vicious thing. It is ostensibly viewed as a beacon of light called belief when none whatsoever can exist in the darkest of times. It throws you off balance with dreary of peace amidst the explosion. It sometimes makes me wonder if this thing called Hope is a good thing.

It might be. If it can help you out of abject pessimism, if it gives you enough to take on the bout of everyday life, if it can harbor the belief of tomorrow, if it can make you live.

It could also be the one to set free the pathway for disappointment and misery and a foothold for betrayal.

Hope is an abstract being which could be lot many things; a friend and a foe, a harbinger of frustration and of happiness, an elixir, an aphrodisiac for the lamented. Word in itself has a mystic quality to it, one that makes you fall without question, with a serene smile.

And most of all, she is a sorceress with an uncanny ability to weave the magic on a whim, the one which makes anyone hope for the better, always!