Hope

So much has transpired that to put any semblance of a chronological account that would make sense on any level seems like too much of a daunting task.  And I'm not even going to try.  As I tried to make sense of all that was happening, much as coming back to this space might have seemed inviting, I wondered that in the end, what do I even have to say, really?  What, indeed?  And what for?  As if it mattered in the least bit!  And so, I vowed I would not even bother.  That my time was probably better spent elsewhere.   And yet, something draws me back here.  And I realize that writing is therapeutic for me.  Yes, it does not matter - what I write, or what I have to say.  Yes, I could probably use the few minutes to do something else.  Yes, in the end, what the hell do I have to say anyway? (*Cynical smile*).  In any case...  As I type this totally rambling note, I ruminate that how it is with life that with sadness comes clarity.  That when you struggle for inspiration, you can only ever turn inward.  That enduring does make you stronger.  That love, deep-rooted and all-transcending does bail you out, time and again.  That if you look around you and learn from the people you interact with everyday, and if you revise those lessons before you fall asleep each night, you have made that day worth your while.  That somethings can never be explained.  And that they needn't be.  That you can hope, and that sometimes, hope is the only thing that can get you through the present.