Sunday, 7 October 2012

The night sky makes one realise the insignificance of being in the cosmic meanings of the universe that shall never be defined. The stars that are dead still shine, like happy memories of childhood. Across the universe, the planes rush in one after the other to the airport that is near the roof I stand gazing at the cosmos, feeling the importance of my own insignificance.

As the windows of the low planes shine bright, a gush of life falls on to the larger-than-life unending sky. Up there in the sky are souls like mine, anticipating a quick landing after a long day, homecoming, and a quick night's sleep which cannot differentiate between a grown up and a child. On a different layer of the universe, a plane slowly trudges along, from a distant corner of the world, and it is just a speck; like the dying star. As the clouds ocassionally engulf its fire-fly like lights, I almost feel that the universe has consumed it, taken it to where it belongs while we are kept wondering what the other side of the picture is like, our dreams limited by the high walls of logic. 

 May be we are like the distant dying stars. Shining on, where the mad dreams die to give way to reason.