“There would be life within the fall.” Those moments when we languish among the dirt, we come to know what survival is really about. It’s like climbing a mountain every single day only to end up falling from the very cliff which separates a winner and a loser. But the addiction with survival is so fatal that with every dawn we make an attempt again. The pain, however, gets excruciating with every fall, and with every passing day we lose our devouring confidence of making it ever. But a ray of hope is like the tinsel town in a dead city which lights up at every bit of goodwill thrown at it. So with scars all over the body and the moment of giving up not very far, we make a final attempt.
The eyes get shrouded with mystery as the dazzle of fear from a loss slowly wanes away from the fingers, and the moment arrives when the leap is finally made, and a new winner emerges from it. The paradise that we had awaited for time and again had finally fallen to our will, and our footsteps behold the change the world would now bear upon. We get a wish in return to clear the scars on the quest for greatness, that we respectfully ignore “Those scars define me, they make me who I am. They remind me of hope, and hope is eternal.” We march ahead with this memory in mind and with a hope to rise with every fall we encounter in our life.
“No pit is ever so big that we could never escape; there is always a way, there will always be.” We thump our heart, and take a leap again.