The silence blooms and forms a mirage
The mirage of trauma, of ecstacy,
Of all thats real.
The silence is real or the mirage is real?
Is it you? Or it is me?
Who runs the past and who owns the future?
The cold night, the warm day,
The bright night, the dark day.
The night awake, the dreaming day.
The fear that's tangible, the hope that's real.
You cradle me, I cradle you,
Oh night! Why're you so clear.
The day is hazy, full of magic and surreal.
Oh night, you basic, so black and real.
One blink, two blink, three..
Breath in and out and in and out
And let your soul be free.
You're weightless.. or heavy
The night will decide.
Is it you or it is the night?
Pragya Prasoon
wisdom12blog 