Sandeep Kulshrestha's Poetry

Hope is a green vine, climbing the walls of the forgotten, its tendrils reaching for the sun even in the hour of shadows. It does not ask permission— it grows, it persists, it wraps itself around the ruins and whispers, “Me Voici”   Hope is the sea, vast and untamed, its salt on your lips, its rhythm in your chest. It does not sleep it rises, it falls, it carries you even when you cannot see the shore.   Hope is the bread broken in the darkest hour, the warmth of shared hands, the taste of something that will not let you starve. It does not explain it feeds, it sustains, it says, Come, eat, there is enough for everyone.   Hope is the bird that sings at the edge of dawn, its song a thread stitching the torn sky. It does not falter it calls, it rises, it reminds you that the night is not eternal. Hope is the hand you did not expect to hold yours, the voice that says your name when the silence is too loud. It does not abandon it stays, it breathes, it says, You are not alone...

  Emulsified into a new mode of being, a new luminescence acts as a metaphor  of breaking the shackles  of the past clutter of wilderness  The jumping rhapsody of vision has led to this new clarity as if a newest testament has been revealed and new ideals have emerged I have grown into a virtuous self of sorts looking at each moment of seeing within as a way of understanding the world  Through the lens of a kind of self-renaissance,  the world we live in Is superficially old and yet surprisingly new, In the “here and now” we exist We are always on a path of renewal and this transformative beam of light Is a new room I live in Life is but a breathtaking journey, If only the hearts are open to see other hearts melting for you