That Familiar Gloss

"The rhythm of life is the force of habit"

*****

Comment: I sometimes like the abstraction of hope over meaninglessness.  The practice of finding a gesture to a possibility that may exist but eludes. 

The certainty of uncertainty is what reaffirms the routine of hope it seems; the constructed expectation that meaning will carry despite the unseemliness.

Just the other day I listened intently to her speak of the certainty.  Her youthful eyes covered words with meaning while her hands belied her trust.

"We have nothing left but to hope," she said.

"What if it is not what you think?", I asked.

"It is not for us to question.  It is so without doubt.  I hope, she replied."

Just like the man I saw feeding rats at the temple it was a familiar gloss.  Irrespective of the travel.  The journey to hope seems fixed in the practice of hope.  Certain stories cast alongside uncertainty.

It is the art of making your mind up without really knowing.  A game of waiting and hoping in-between waiting and hoping.  That wheel within a wheel.

She said he called it "faith" and named roses to convey its beauty.  "Its bigger than a tree, or the sea, and even time.  Remember it began before anything.  But no-one knows why.  Not yet.  But it is written.  Though not fully.  Not Yet."

Somewhere in-between adding meaning to meaninglessness life lives despite.  Irrespective of hope.

Nothing is forever real when the signs you followed go nowhere in particular.

And so practicing hope is a roll of the dice and a waiting game of unknowable odds.

But being stuck inside of being stuck is no place to be.  It is also not a polite concession to those who wait ardently, despite.

And so the inevitable gesture.  Because what else is there to do? 

Onward! ?