Blue. Bright.

A year or so it took,
For him to say Yes.

Dim lights lit his lowly room
His books, Those of Tolstoy and London
Layered with dust and gloom,
lay silent in a corner.

The darkness, now was to him home,
He lingered under black skies,
As his eyes saw, only the dark of the night,
Nothing white, nothing bright.

He spoke no words to people,
His life he lived in solitude

It didn’t bother him,

Not for once,
That there were Stars in the night sky.

That there was life, in darkness,
That he forgot to see life, in darkness.

It took him a year, to say yes.

He opened his creaking door

A Streak of life entered his room,
As he walked out into the world,
With a Smile,
That brought out not only the stars,
But also took away the scars,
That he so comfortably wore.
-Anirudh Shankaran.


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