Scribbling:
Tragedy of Wanderer:
“No more a fantasy, a reality, a
dream, a nightmare, I saw a shadow walking past me and i felt...strange...I thought
to ask it for a light or just to start a random chat, about weather may be or
about stores being too crowded today, does it matter anyway, and after all
there must be a conversation-as what I thought. But before i could even whisper
or later scream out to get attention of that shadow passing by, it was well
beyond reach, beyond even sight almost, like that last hint of light by the end
of dusk before night embraces it all, sudden as it happened, as always, you see
that drop of light, you think of capturing it, you act in a fraction of second
clinching your fist, yet what you remain left with is handful of darkness that
grows over you by the time you shake it off your palm, as if sands by the beach
that finds its way to all over your skin once you think of entering those
thriving, waters, full of life walking by, Only to find yourself corrupted to
core, drenched in salty moisture, sandy winds, dark skies and a moon hovering
atop hoping to be given way by clouds that every now and then abduct it without
any hesitation, leaves it in a kind of taint that never goes away, one could
even see those tainted marks in broad day-light as that lifeless piece of rock
appears before dusk in skies of eastern parts, awaiting for darkness to take
over, for there are some lives that breaths well only in the lap of night.”
~ Praveen Parasar
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