Mystical place it is – the night sky, a gigantic canvas painted in the shades of our imagination, a sight that triggers an unfathomable range of emotions to an onlooker – a home for the homeless, a creator’s paradise for a poet, an workplace for an astronomer and a visual treat for the traveler. With its myriad shades, it occurs to me as the reflection of my inner self, with the stars as the various fragments of my personality – as innumerable as they get, the emotions that twirl and twirk with every passing second twinkling as the stars, that appear in the sky at a time of the year and disappear the very next quarter. The hazy milky way dividing the sky into two, is no more different than the contrasting embodiment of thoughts that exists within me at a constant war with my conscience. The very fact that each of the stars is millions of light years away and has a gargantuan size, still playing no more a role than a tiny twinkling dot that an emotion appears to your persona.
Looming deep within the dark are the aphotic secrets, preserved from seeing the light of world, fearing the unknown, termed as dark matter and dark energy for astrophysics but demons in terms of our soul. Everyone has a fear, and that’s where their weakness is obscured. Weakness is a relative term, similar to darkness, indicating of the absence of strength, the strength to dominate your fears. I have my own set of demons, killing a part of me on the inside. It’s the manner in which we face our demons, that decides who we become, a crazyhead born to surpass the limits of normalcy defying the demons inside us; the CROWD that’s afraid of their demons, walking a common path, sharing the same belief; or the devil itself – a manifestation of its inner demons.
A truly breathtaking view to observe, the night sky is the beauty that we fail to observe in the brightness of day. Flip the coin and the nights translate into the gloomy, hard halves of our lives that all of us at the best try to avoid, anxiously waiting for the bright sunny stretches of daylight in their life. Imagination is what drives beauty, the dark and sullen nights with a billion bright dots, await to be converted into patterns bold and vivid; It all depends on how we treat the fall from grace – a dismay or an opportunity, an opportunity to make things right, an opportunity to rise from the ashes, an opportunity to ignite the fire within us and achieve the unachieved, because no matter what, day will follow the night, light will always fill the darkness creeping in from the narrowest crevices. The routine follows, either be a part of it or be the bright supernova that appears once in centuries and outshines the sun itself because,
Life is but an illusion, and we are the illusionists!