When the odds stack high, .
When our visions are not far enough,
When the road ahead seems blocked,
When we are at our wits’ end
When we are at cross with destiny
It shakes hand with us.
As it has planned ahead
A reciprocal arrangement
That opens a new path,
A new vision appears.
Nothing ends,
A new beginning starts.
Hope is here to stay.

A poem by my mother Anjana