Indonesia is a perpetual, sometimes difficult, dream.
it is a legacy of past desires and imagination.
for millions of people calling themselves ‘Indonesians’
it is a destiny.
it is a destiny carved with pain and pride.
at times, frustration carries the day.
but we never fail
to realize that hope cheers each morning noiselessly,
it is the kind of hope created by many
who stride through the dense traffic of delusions.
it is the kind of hope that Heaven never dictates.
hope is like a road in the country side.
before there was none.
but people walked through the bushes relentlessly,
creating a path
and a road was born.
it is never a perfect road
but we can be quietly proud of it.
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