There was a strange vibe which was beyond any
explanation. The million colours that the darkness exuded worked as an insignia
for the magnetic effect. Whatever it was, it was very different, yet it seemed so familiar. The moon seemed pristine. It was as if the sun was murmuring the tale
of eternal divinity to the moon. It was difficult to apprehend that entrancement.
It was electric. It was sheer magic. Like sunshine.
The night sky was gleaming with a million lights;
lights from far away stars, stars who rarely seemed concerned. The stars always
had a strange presence, altruistic albeit a self-indulgent presence. But the
sun was different. Always. Explaining “different” is difficult, may be
impossible even, but feeling it was not. “Different” is innate, fundamental.
That explains the pre-primeval-ness of sun. Its immaculateness. Maybe even its
enigma. But, the moon too seemed to have imbibed the outlandishness. The moon
had always been eccentric, but the degree seemed to be several notches higher
at the moment; so much so that, the frivolous moon appeared impeccable. Of all
the mysteries that the night showcases, it was riveting enough.
Why is it that the most divergent of phenomena
seem to be the most congruent of all? Why is it that the frivolous moon seems
adorable at the exact same time when the sun emanates the quintessence of ardour?
The simple things are perhaps always meant to be the most complicated. Perhaps
that is what preserves the essence of being. A little perplexity is perhaps essential
for the comprehension of existence, however paradoxical it may seem. But is it
not enough that there are already a zillion mystique in the universe! May be
explaining that vibe seems like a great oxymoron and most certainly it might be.
Defining such an impasse is therefore mythical. The only thing that can be said
at this juncture is that it was magic being enamoured by the greatest of
enigma. That’s amore!
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