There has never been a more romantic protagonist
than ‘death’, waiting for a lifetime. You never know if he met ‘life’ and if
they lived happily ever after. An embrace that withstood the test of times. A lullaby
yet to be sung, an unfinished epilogue and an obituary to be inked. It is like
a wave hitting a shore – never able to get hold of each other. The knots
distances them and aggravates the desire. But when the stars align and the
clock ticks in a perfect symmetry, the spirit is free. It is overwhelming, it
is joyous, there are tears and there is yet another heart waiting to be slipped
away from this euphoria.
In the silence of December,
Every year, I hear him tiptoeing.
He stands quietly,
Waiting for the last breath.
Every year, I hear him tiptoeing.
He stands quietly,
Waiting for the last breath.
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