Ramification.

The vacant silence haunted the blistering rage which crushed the soul into pieces like shattered glass. The question of the perplexed relation between silence and darkness daunts the mind. The silence that beamed in the dark, echoed in the vast emptiness, yet, it wasn't an hollow vessel. May be it was the darkness. Darkness, exclamation mark. Doesn't it divulge into the so called emptiness while the mind wonders how did all of this place into perfect place, and how did all of this took perfect shape. The emptiness that filled the bright light. It wasn't the light filling the emptiness; imparting light and serving as the hope, as anticipated. But, devoid of light, the loss of hope. Hope, the binding element that keeps everything alive and in sync. Nature is mysterious. Life too. As a moment passes by in the dimness of the waking light with or without the aforementioned element of hope. Hope is everything. Without it, it is just emptiness. A big dark vacant space like the black hole. It depends on what we chose to believe in. And What do we chose to believe in? What is the power that has been bestowed upon the life species? 

The blinded manifestation of the thought that there is someone, something superior and powerful, someone magical and completely out of the world literally, making decisions for us is a big misconception. There is power in everything, everyone, in you. It just needs realization, like the tiny light in the darkness. The tiny ray of light that shines in the emptiness of the darkness. Hope. One unique distant dream. The conception that future is uncertain and that the choices and actions lay the foundations for the tomorrow, a better tomorrow, or even the best tomorrow. But isn't it all hope and nothing more or less. Hope? What is it? An uncertainty that something good might happen amid all the chaos that surrounds us. Good. Chaos. The former is left for fate and the later is our creation. Another anagram, another battle. Mind is the best battle ground, if you chose to believe it. You. We. I. It is us and just I everywhere and no where. 

But then again, just hope. Is it enough? Hoping for something good to turn up, despite the odds that take place or forced to have taken place. Forced to take place as in our own creation, our actions, and its consequences, precisely. It does require quite a lot of elements to ensure that the tiny hope that lingered in the mind is not just a distant dream, beyond the reach. Hard work, preservation, determination, integrity, commitment, bla bla and the list goes on. The point is that it is just not one thing that gives us what we require, but a combination of a few hundred other things. Though the outcome is uncertain, ofcourse, unless the question isn't about the perfect perfectionist. Perfection. Being perfect! Aren't we all perfect? Perfect, in our own way, in the little space that we surround ourselves with, by being ourself, following what we believe to be true. Even though the question of imperfectly perfect is a commendable one or even perfectly imperfect.

As the silence grew darker amid the glowing present of bewildered thoughts, the destination was certainly uncertain. But a binding feeling that one is not too far from destiny, or that is what one chose to believe, is indeed the driving force. Yet the uncertainty of the future still prevails and the amalgam of million things makes the future possible if one believes to make it happen. But that is for another day to ponder about. The night is still young and there is more one could than they could possible imagine.