For The Misfits

I write…

Of the vibrance of the rays of dawn

Of the glorious twinkling stars

Of the calming glistening moonlight

And

Of the marvels that the cosmos has.

I write…

Of the beauty of Life

Of the miracles of Hope

Of the wonders of happiness

And

Of the magic of Love.

I write…

Of the brilliance of colors

Of the soothing aromas

Of the gentleness of the breeze

And

Of the soothing strength of words

Yes…

It’s all joys and merry

Is it really so…

Or

Has it been scary?

I have witnessed

The gloomiest of dusks

And shrouded days in the clouds

I too have seen

The darkest of nights

And the Universe with a dreary sight

There have been

Frigid dances of death

And moments of despair

With doomed breaths

I’ve been casted upon

With the curse of oblivion

Spells of Blues

And numerous moments of forlorn.

There too are pallid days

That I’ve spent in cold corners

Devoid of any scent

During storms that have been braved

And in deafening silences

The comfort of words have been craved

But I still write

Of the things that I write 

Knowing they are far from

Conventionally right (relatability)

But I write

For the unconventional souls

Who do not fit

With the generic norms

For they speak a language

That barely anyone knows

And when they seek comfort

They crave for words

That are bright and light

And not the ones

That glorify treacherous woes’ might

Yes, I write for them

For the “misfits”

For those who do not relate

With relatability

Maybe someday 

Some far far future day

My unrelatable word would reach them

To serve as a momentary abode

And reinforce their values of hope and love

So, I will write

Till my pen bleeds and thoughts flow

For you,

For me,

And for the ones

Who desire,

in all darkness,

Of life and a momentary glow.

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