Invisible ink

Even the sun goes to bed hoping to rise and shine again

Destinies, I suppose, are dyed with invisible ink to give hope a foot in the door. Each day thus opens as a blank page and closes with the script revealing itself a little more. Yellow to grey, the palette changes every day.

What if at birth you got a precap of your time under the sun? Would that make you happy? Would that even be fun? Would then the cinders of hope ever stand a chance?

In the ocean of pain, it’s always hope that frantically waves from the shoreline to say things will be fine again. Like the baby that fumbles and falls but never tires of standing up anew, hope too walks in the same shoes.   

The invisible ink has already put a fullstop to our stories somewhere. The day, the hour, the minute, the moment, it's all been put together.  But till we get there, we are all just surfing on hope. 

(This post is part of the A to Z Challenge)