In the hands of tomorrow

In the hands of tomorrow

To bemoan the existence of what could be,

The atrocity of what ifs set its fangs deeper into the present space of serenity.

In our lies, we build intricate webs of stalling vows that falter in their depths,

In the cessation of tomorrow, the beauty of today wearies itself in shuddered breaths.

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Sabotage in its mirth glances at the soul with a mischievous glance,

As one tries to conquer the world in a day, the elusiveness of hustle starts to dance.

Becoming the mightiest in one’s abundance lapses in its dearth that lies,

To be our best, one must silence the inner turmoil that in its gallant notion belies.

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To not be or to be in our radiance, the darkness that hovers questions its sanity,

For pain in its rawness, pain in its cry deems to be felt, to return to your humanity.

Thou shall cry, thou shall dance, fall and rise above the expectational brink,

And every moment you think you know is certain will change the way you think

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Glory and Downfall draw their breaths in a similar fashion that one obliges to see,

In their demeanor one feeds the ego and the other tames the conceited visions of thee.

For if you may live in your worth true

Feel every ounce of existence that breathes its presence within you.

Live your existence in the abundance of joy and the liveliness of sorrow,

For who knows what lies in the hands of tomorrow?

_Hridya Sharma