Reading my random notes, It's been 4 am in the morning. I just heard a bird chirping near my window. A little It is thundering outside, A more inside me.
Empty cold roads, with just the noise of a heavy four wheeler passing by in a sudden rush who wants nothing that can stop him. Which is exactly the opposite of his fast passing scooty, from which the eyes always searches for a reason to slow by. In the silent slow city, only his heartbeat could add a chaos after seeing her standing nearby.
Just while thinking, i opened my eyes and saw through the window Lighting and the moan of the cloud, The drop falls, one after another. The black sky slowly fading and turning into blues The birds stops chirping, or maybe they were no more loud enough. The playlist on shuffle suddenly sings for me, (With some soft piano notes) "CITY OF STARS, ARE YOU SHINING JUST FOR ME, CITY OF STARS, THERE'S SO MUCH I CAN'T SEE". For a while i couldn't stop my heart from smiling My silent lips followed the lyrics,
It's love, Yes all we're looking for is love from someone else, A rush, A glance, A touch, A dance. I smiled there and continued, To look in somebody's eyes, To light up the skies, To open the world and send them reeling, A voice that says, i'll be here and you'll be alright. I don't know if i know, Just where i will go, "Cause all that i need is this crazy feeling" A rat-tat-tat on my heart, Think i want it to say, City of stars... Are you shining just for me...
In the end i only knew, I always loved sunrises more then sunsets, And He was singing with me along in this.
My eyes suddenly fell asleep, And the song repeated itself.
At times when i sit blank and empty, i always search for different techniques and styles to communicate my ideas. In rare instance, via music or less complex words. Every person who writes something is either a confession or a try to understand about himself or things around him.
Experiences differ, ideas differ, words differ, rhymes differ all these things a variety in the paragraphs or poems we see. Sometimes it's too romantic or truthful or perfectly putted in words that every single word leaves a sensational touch inside us and sometimes the words brings lies and false hopes and drags us emotionally back and makes a person feel mentally uncomfortable and dead from within.
A writer carries an audacity to convince a person to pull him near to death and sometimes helps in filling a life even in the burnt ashes.
But imagine, Imagine a person, who is about to end his life falls out of words, his suicide note writes "i don't know what to write" or a sick man feels blank while dying and couldn't give his last message to his son and wife. Imagine a person who just finished writing a novel gets empty while giving it a "title".
Imagine all the poets and writers have absolutely nothing to write even after they saw a beautiful evening sun, or his beloved in a red silk dress, he don't have words to write a love song for her lover. Tea and coffee, sunrise and sunsets, Water and sand, sky and land, flowers and plants or being blind when they see people near bus stand. Imagine us not reading someone's eyes, imagine us not looking for a way of life. Watching the writer inside you dying slowly, A slow death of paralysed minds and hands. The world will end before it's end.
So, find beauty in things, this is what everyone's work should be. See someone's dance or paint. Or listen to a person's voice in rain. See your lover's folds and edges. See an animal and their sledges. Listen to the rain drops falling on a stell, Or a fold of a thread, or smoke rising from an ash tray. See the mere folding of a fabric, see the mating of clouds and thier showering. See the lights, see the rays, listen to the humming of a steel or shdes of Grey's.
Feel yourself lucky that your hands can still strike a canvas and will never left the canvas blank. Even after there's a painting that even you won't understand. The world's cold and you are warm. Draw/write and love the warmth that your pages and your hands together creates. Don't mind critics, don't forget art in little things, don't forget all your gloomier moments, don't let the things die,give them a life through your pens and drawings.
Write about anything, Maybe not in an intellectual/professional way but in a loved way. And never make the writer inside you feel, That you fell out of words while writing.
Because a writer is never, Never ever out of words.
In a rush, in the crowd, in the traffic full of lights In chaos, in silence, in all these empty nights, I have him in my closed eyes.
Making me fall in love with the stars and sky, Depths and heights. Discovering Movies, cinema, romance and drama, while wandering between the city lights.
He's as pure as dry woods, His voice strikes like soothing humming of the steel. His touch falls like the drop of water on dry sand. His smell calms me like of a newly opened novel. And I still don't know if these comparisons can draw him justice.
The thrill in feeling his love makes me explore the best words and lyrics from the whole world, To adorn him in a beautiful love song. Discovering and visiting all the beautiful places, To embroid an adventure with him along.
My crayons will paint him in the most beautiful portrait one day, Appealing a steady gaze of him, of what he looks like if he sees himself through my eyes and heart. For me, every beautiful thing in this world is a part of this art. Art of purity, Art in him.
Starts would still have a count, But the sonnets and love lullabies won't stop its count even after all the dead bodies collides.
On the day when world will be on the edge of destruction, All the sonnets and love songs will not be the part of that apocalypse, Not letting the lovers of the beautiful world die. Likewise, you'll live in my words forever. And that's how, we'll never have to say goodbye.
Because of him, I felt, i could write, What was "love".
To be honest, we loved the name MIRAKEE❤️. It was inspired from a Greek word, Meraki used to describe doing something with soul, creativity, or passion.
But the realisation that the word Meraki has a broader interpretation and can be used to describe cooking or preparing a meal, arranging a room, choosing decorations, setting an elegant table or even purchasing the perfect gift for your best friend, made us rethink.
Therefore, the name MIRAQUILL was coined to better reflect our focus on the appeal of written matter as this app was designed with the writers and readers in mind to bring more attention and visibility to words. A quill is a writing tool made from a bird's feather used in the past as a primary method of written communication. So adding quill as a suffix makes it more compatible with our objectives and aspirations.
Although we will always be MIRAKEE in our hearts, we are very excited about our new name Miraquill because it is more in line with our vision- a global interactive platform for a truly creative community of writers and readers.
Tell us in the comments how you feel about Miraquill!
Along with this name change we have offered you an exciting library of unlimited photographs brought to you by Unsplash. You can update your app and search for photos.
However, with this new addition, we have removed the upload image option from the app. This step has been taken to ensure that creators are credited for their artwork. We also want to make sure that photos with nudity, violent imagery, screenshots are not allowed on the platform. We expect writers to respect the original work of photographers and the guidelines of the community. If you would like to upload your image to the library of photos permitted on the app, we can guide you with the process. Please write to us at firstname.lastname@example.org.