Everything started in a vain… at the end
nothing was gained.
Wasteful event for those goals oriented and
success driven… But, an album of memories for lovers of life ridden…
Life… described, admired, advised sometimes,
and dreamt of many a times… yet, never lived at times.
Not everything was shaped well but nothing was
ruined…
Being imperfect, everything was well set, with
those boundaries of freedom… with those empty glasses of seldom, covered the
beauty of boredom.
Its about time, when, life ask for life which
is beyond the existence and closer to divine…
The hue of blue revealed the darkness in the
light… the music in the air and the lyrics at the sight… where memories were
babble… and the true self was desire…
Those faces, those talks, all those jokes, and
every single hope… everything was there… but in the everything nothing was
there… except they who had arranged it without self being and by being mean…
Being mean to those bunch of collected,
educated, yet uneducated with wealth as exile still draught for life.
A place beyond mundane... and the days before Mondays…
Where logic is abandoned and with the tragic
its burdened, magical are those wings which lift us far away but no place in
particular…
Its needed, required, necessary… because its
life… where you are you… where you are being and a human beyond the race of all
the accessories…
Where reality is more virtual, where following a
path and earning a living is like a ritual… Do not succumb to the virtues,
rather define your terms, find your rules, and bind them together with your own
dramatic hues…
Like a lover… on each day living for its love…
like a dreamer… at each night… dreaming of dreams brighter with the darkest
sight…
Where rules are self-defined and breaking them is the only rule… Not being rebel, not being supported too, but being fact of being real… What defines it, holds the context of your mind… A day well spent is a life worth lived…
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