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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