Nights and Stories.

2AMs, the sound of the ticking clock, heavier breaths, and cold breeze forcing its way in through the crevices in the glass- they all have their own story to tell.  The nights hold an unworldly charm for those who can see through the dark. 

As it caresses in its bosom the noisy crowds, the poets, artists,  writers and thinkers awaken. How in love am I with these hours that belong solely to them!

Up high in the sky,  the moon shines bright and on it are silhouettes of children dancing in a winter light to faintly lullabies. They disappear to the morning sun. Are the craters the indentations of their tiny feet as they hurried back home?

On some starless nights,  the lone star appears meekly and carefully, like a little brat giving away the playful  crimes of its comrades when they're away. Little does it know, the  the fallen stardust on night sky carpets at 2 AMs are my playful crimes. 

On a distant land, I hear the warring waters.  The ebb and flow of the tides.  Their fickle mindedness.  Ebb or flow?  Why this war with a welcoming shore, I think.  Ebb, then flow. 

Where I am, the nights birth a new story with every deceptive wink of my eye.  There's another world in these nights.  A hundred new worlds in some.  How in love I am with these nights and their stories!

It was either brimming joy
Or hidden pain
And at times,  both
They were always glistening- her eyes
And how he spent nights trying to decipher
The secret worlds that dwelled in them
Worlds her words didn't vindicate enough! 

In an incomprehensible darkness

The clouds ignited, burst open

The pain wouldn't hold anymore.
Peircing. Fighting. Hastening.
Inflicting more than it freed.
Yet, void of remorse, the freedom exultant.
Still, a ray shined through.
Amidst all odds.
Peircing. Fighting. Hastening.
Only, harder.
And just as she lit the darkest corridors 

Of his dismal, brittle heart
It shone with a light brighter than the sun.

A Thing Called Love.

Let me paint you a picture.

One that transcends all known divides. 

One that speaks of love, of all things beautiful.

I'd paint you the picture. I promise you. But love needs colors, rainbows, and far too many auroras of congruous harmony for me to do it any justice. 

I have drained all of mine in rendering the grey sky with my hues. 

And if I did, there'd be too many colors contrasting the darkness she left behind in your soul. 

Just too much light to blind your already flickering eyelids. But I promised you, to hold your heart dear.

I could say it again, and  a hundred times over. 

And a few times more- that you will be alright. 

And silently hope for myself, just as I do for you, that so will I.

But we both know. 

That when they leave, they take along with them a part of our worlds, that we little knew existed.

And we spend the rest of our days, unforgiving, recreating the lost worlds in others, with others.

Always, in vain.

I would tell you, the universe brims with enough goodness to set you free.  To set us free.

That it conspires to save the good people, our hurting souls. 

But love defies all logic, all science, philosophy. Everything that we know to be true.

You have seen more universes than the rest of the world have ever known to exist, in the subtle nuances of her very being.

Found too many worlds in the single person that meant the world to you.

The goodness of a million others shone bright in your one-in-a-million.

And blinded you to the rest of the world.

What science or logic could explain this love? One so profuse, so consuming. 

This is why my words are meek. 

Too fragile to hold on their own.

Why I fumble when I tell you you're going to be alright. 

Why when you fell back to the raw earth from your heavens,  you fell deeper than you imagined. 

Why at times, you were too numb to feel. 

Or comprehend the hoard of new feelings that now blanket you.

 Everyday. Every single night.

Why there isn't enough light in the world anymore.

You loved with a love you didn't know you were capable of.

You loved enough for the both you.

And when she left.. 

Well, when they leave.

We have enough left in us to indulge in darker sides of the night.

Enough for it all: 

Falling more in love with the ideas of our carved worlds. 

Ideas. More ideas.

Concepts. Scripting concepts of a redefined love. Scripting fantasies never to be true.

Growing too fond of the new found escape- solace- solitude

Of the dark firmaments, the studded stars velveting them. 

Of all things you have grown fond of as you drank away the hurtful nights.

Of vanishing silhouettes, piercing suns and fading sunsets.

Of all things that crashed your empire in the wake of the day. 

Of lost battles. Losing wars.

Lost causes. 

Once in a while, and to an unlucky few, very few times in a while a thing called love happens. 

The darkness of the earth consumes itself to light up enough new worlds in our souls. 

Love happens. 

And then, it is lost. 

Worlds are lost. 

And you have been blinded again.

A few more battles lost. The war too lost..

Lost ideas, concepts. 

Listen close, the universe still conspires.

Relentlessly.

You will hurt.  It will hurt. 

But in the bitterness, love happens. 

Again.

Writers

We are but naive worshipers
Of redemption through words
Hoping to  relentlessly
Fill the fractures in our souls
And faults in our fate
Through well-scripted fantasies.

Stardust

He spoke endlessly of how small an entity we are

Of the growing universe, love and magic in our hands

But in that one moment

It felt like the whole of universe dwelt in his eyes

Like magic was all mine, for an endless instant. 

Obliviate

They tried.
They warned me against my end that was u
Only, you were the beginning of all that was me
The end of my sorrow, my pain, my regret.
I was hiding beneath the mask you tore open
Layer by layer, i unfolded.

I wrote you in the stars, the galaxies
When came the night, bathed in ur glimmer

I molded you in the sky- heedful of fragile clouds 
When came the rain, drenched in your tears 

I saw you in the rainbows- in the vivid hues and the myriad tints
Engraved deep in my veins, I cleansed my soul with yours 

­They warned me against an end that would be u
an impending tragedy- your  repellancy

But long after you've been gone 
In search of brighter stars, fuller galaxies and  softer skies 
I've been broken, mended and broken far worse again
A constellation of words have been let loose
Far too many sunsets have been spent in solitude

And I must have a broken judgement, to want it all over again
To accept the years of destruction, for a few moments of your sunshine.