Hope lingers,
Cleaving valiantly,
to the promise of cleansing rains.
It moves gingerly,
through the landmines
of our minds.
It rides the wave, 
of the sewage
built up over the years.
The Coming is soon,
like the rising sun after the moon
a harvest after the monsoon.
Hope gives birth to redemption,
to change the perception
of the world's dire despair.
Now it shines,
to wakeup the weary somnambulist.
When it falls like Manna,
catch it.
And plant it in your garden.

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Loves to tell and hear untold stories about people, places and experiences!

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