• akilanoso 106w

    Every night I seek the perception of how will the next day be different than the previous. Melancholy it is. Isnt it?
    Star shudded sky, twinkling, like it had the most vivid moments to witness and the clouds waving by to withstand an evidence of what a wonderful night it is or will be. And only if we wish to appreciate the very moment we are in. Thats it. Not a second more nor less. That very moment.
    Winter night packed in a warm blanket, struggling to make a way through insomnia. Listening to the old gold melodies. Trying hard to figure out what life could bring the very next bit you are to breathe. Is it the 'life' we refer to condemn and manipulate what is to come forth? Or is it some dust sprinkled around, conspiring and making a way through your mind to absorb your thoughts and mend our very ways we want it to be?

    @writersnetwork @mirakee @mirakeeworld

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    Dust

    ©akilanoso