So many dreams stumble during the inclement darkness
They emerge with gaiety with the hope of meeting the first rays of dawn
What happens at the hours shrouded in mystery?
Many of them are forced to be abandoned midway along the blurry paths
Some of them wander on their own
Guided by the cosmic instincts, but they find their destination elsewhere
Whoever is awake, and waiting there for some inspirations to be conveyed
There is a wrong impression of the darkness from childhood
One should learn how to fear the vanishing lights- as if life transforms
Why the evening has to be melancholic and night dreadful?
On can always sleep peacefully and witnesses the dreams bloom
There is always enough light across the cosmic world