Hope and Prepare | A Conversation

‘How does one hope for the best and prepare for the worst, Lord Vayu?’ princess Valli asked the Guardian of the Wind.

‘I am not sure, but it is quite an impossible feat I must say.’

‘To be hopeful of the great and still be ready to face the worst, a sting of irony,’ the princess added.

Vayu nodded his head.

‘To be hopeful would mean to let the heart float among the clouds,’ he said as the sky danced in shades of pink. The sun was setting. They were atop a high hill that overlooked the entire valley. ‘And to prepare for the worst would mean to fall straight unto the ground from the clouds.’

‘How can one imagine the two together. To hope for one and to prepare for another?’ Valli questioned as the wind blew her scarf. ‘Doesn’t one prepare for what one hopes?’

‘Indeed,’ replied Vayu. ‘The human life is bogged with the eternal ironies, to have day and night, shadow and light. To have the wind to breathe and to have the same win uproot homes as hurricanes.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to be able to fly like the birds instead? To soar in the clouds and not have to worry of falling?’ Valli added.

‘But even the birds fear the fall.’

‘Perhaps, they do. And we do too.’

Keys to Open

How strange

is it to have to ask

for keys to

open our own hearts.

To ask someone else

to unlock it,

should the demon

escape from the dungeons.

What fills the heart

is but not a demon,

it is an angel.

Teach him to fly,

perhaps he’ll return to you,

if not, he will be free as

should be.

Teach her to swim,

and she shall conquer

the oceans ahead,

no matter how stormy

the weather.

How strange

is it to have to ask

for keys to

open our own hearts?

30 Minutes of Traveling: A Rabbit and A Writer

It’s all warm inside the big micro. I don’t know how but I know it’s going to take me home. Ah! such a lovely weather it is, only if it weren’t for the crowd inside the bus. Look at how many people are being cramped in, one stop after another.

Thankfully I’m safe here, cozy. I don’t like these eyes staring at me. Haven’t they seen my kind before?

Wait, hush! Someone is particularly starting at me. I know she’s a writer. I’m a rabbit, I should know these things. Super powers, you see.

Ah! the writer, those curious eyes hiding behind prescription glasses. I know she’s planning on writing about me now that my existence has become evident to her. But what she doesn’t know is that I have already written about her, inside my mind. Right now. Here, in these words.

Heavens! why can’t she write about the humans instead. But wait, I forgot that they re indeed extremely boring. You’d see a lot of them inside a micro bus, but a rabbit. Well well! It’s a treat I suppose.

My owner might be one of those good looking men in the world, but I’m cuter. And I know everyone around, especially the writer wants to pet me, run her hands through my white fluffy fur. But she won’t get to. No, she won’t. She’s far away from me.

Everyone is rather surprised at my calm nature. If the bus gets crowded, I hold on tightly to my owner’s arms. How wonderful it is to look at these humans wondering about us animals!

It’s getting really hot now. Some people get down, some people get in. My owner has been standing for a long time now! Poor creature! When will he get to sit and when will I have to stop worrying about accidentally falling off his strong arms?

The writer is still thinking about me. She thinks of me as a cute little being, but am I? I wonder! Oh wait the bus stops and hurray my owner finally gets the seat. I cling a little tighter as he sits down on the corner seat. Oh but now I can’t see the writer anymore. Maybe it’s good.

I’m going home.


I met a rabbit inside the micro bus and thought, what if the rabbit wanted to write about it, instead of me?