Nights

I love nights more than days,
Days are dusty and noisy,
They show everything so bright,
Contour of love dissolving in clutter,
With no room for subtleties,
Days fill cowards with bravado,
And trample beautiful spirits and ghosts,
Days are nature’s greatest hypocrisy,
Rendering false significance,
Nights, now these are different,
they chisel away pretentions,
Bring away real meat of reality,
Colors morphing away into shapes,
Shapes turning into sounds,
Welled up emotions bubbling in crazily,
Men slumbering, stars finally sighing light,
Sun, a hydrogen lie finally knowing its place,
And I, praying and praying,
For the show to linger on,
A poor man’s dream!

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