We all have our parts of
the sky. Just the thought that we own it or no one else does is same
way gratifying. There is a little soul inside us who goes to the roof
every night. He counts stars and marks with white chalk, the boundaries.
Time has passed. Rains have troubled the busy mornings, drizzled and soothed in the evening and rested at night in clouds. Waiting restlessly to claim my side of the sky again, I have realized, at some nights you just have to give in. In life, sometimes you won't get your part of the sky.
There will be beautiful dawns. After long nights of darkened assumptions, there will be a time when with the drowsy, uninterested eye you will stroll to the roof and look up . The lines are not there. The stars are retiring, the counts are less. Still, at that time, there is a feeling of fondness...
... A fondness to have found life back. Rest is just a story of how you fall in love with yourself, all over again.
- SoUmY@
Time has passed. Rains have troubled the busy mornings, drizzled and soothed in the evening and rested at night in clouds. Waiting restlessly to claim my side of the sky again, I have realized, at some nights you just have to give in. In life, sometimes you won't get your part of the sky.
There will be beautiful dawns. After long nights of darkened assumptions, there will be a time when with the drowsy, uninterested eye you will stroll to the roof and look up . The lines are not there. The stars are retiring, the counts are less. Still, at that time, there is a feeling of fondness...
... A fondness to have found life back. Rest is just a story of how you fall in love with yourself, all over again.
- SoUmY@
Comments
This write gave me the same fondness..
Simple and penetrating.