The fleeting existence of this flower and me,
Oblivious of its presence in the room,
It blooms.
Despite being aware,
It's only here for the night.
When no one is awake to discern its beauty,
Is it aware of its reality?
They would admire it only for a moment,
I wonder,
Is beauty all that matters?
Or does one need to be seen to become beautiful?
You do not become beautiful — you are beautiful.
The only time I can comprehend my thoughts is at night,
When I'm one with myself,
Utterly alone.
Without reflecting anything back,
Like the colour black,
I'm one with the night.
Starry sky with no moon in sight,
Them residing in their graveyard,
Beautiful nonetheless.
Night reflecting the beauty of the outside and the unknown,
While forcing me to see the beauty of the inside and beyond.
The voices inside my head,
Brings me back to reality.
Its 12,
The night has just begun,
The trail of woe continues.
It's the beginning and the end,
Leaving things behind,
With no reruns.
I know now,
I have taken enough,
It's time to start giving.
- Shreya Singh
F.Y.B.A
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