Foggy Night

It was the darkest of all the nights. I was dead tired. But I had to drive. The fog was making it equally difficult for me to drive. I drove like a snail. I felt my move restricted at the speed of car’s headlight.

Honestly, I felt like the time had frozen itself in the thick dense fog. My eyes had become heavy from the non-stop driving and I just dozed off.

The next thing I saw was — me, standing in a city which looked deserted and there were green cloud bubbles that were floating above my head.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/foggy/

Jasmine

Jasmine

Blooming in the night

it’s sweet smell wafting

through the garden

entering the corridor

The girl

comes out

Everyone in deep sleep

She passes the corridor

reaches the garden

Watches her steps

She waits

The boy

Lover of hers

Life of her heart

Climbs the wall

Pats her on her back

They meet

They look at each other

their hands clasped together

They sit

in a dark patch

unnoticed

They sit quietly

under the jasmine bush

Talking

of a lovely future

joining the starry dots

write their names

Time

to part

bid farewell

with a passionate kiss

with a gentle embrace

The Night Warrior

In the beginning was nothing and…. But how can that be possible, there has to be something. In the vastness of darkness was something or rather someone. He had no form or rather no one had seen him to say that he had some form.

He was the warrior of dark. He looked dark; he was formless. His duty was walking through the infinite darkness and so was his form-infinite; dark or light no one knows, no one has seen. One day he got bored with the silence and so he took out a bow from his quiver and shot it in the darkness.

The bow was harmless and just like a fire cracker sprinkled the space with dots of light. He was happy to see it. Due to no gravity and freezing temperatures the sparks refused to vanish and so they stayed. They stayed like hanging lights. Some sparks were like mini bulbs and the others were clubbed together, they defined no shape. So, the warrior took out a flute from his quiver and like a glassblower blew air into these cluttered sparks. They were now inflated. Now a shape could be defined, they were round and somewhat circular in shape.

He moved covering the space from white ball to orange ball, from orange ball to yellow and finally he stopped at a blue ball. It looked very attractive; so he gazed at it. He took out his flute and started playing the sound of life into it. Very soon the blues got separated into two parts- sky and ocean. The waves danced at the notes played by the warrior. The warrior saw them happy and shot a bow right into this blue ball. There was gravity and the sparks did not stay and fell down. They were scattered all over the ocean. They were shinny, sandy, muddy and formed parts of land. He was happy and wanted to assign a protector to all this. He took out a conch from the bed of the ocean. He blew into the conch and since everything was so happy and the waves were dancing and there was breeze…the sound got transformed into green trees. They were planted everywhere. They stood deep rooted and with their branches joined together showed respect to the warrior.

There was one tree that looked very attractive. It stood firm, had good thick branches; however, unlike the others had no leaves. The warrior could see him in it. He called at it to get a closer look. But the poor tree could not see and fell down with a big thud. Right where it fell was a large ball of mud. The warrior placed it right at its center. He plucked three leaves from other plants and placed these three leaves on this ball. Two were placed horizontally in one line and the third one in between these, a little below. Now the warrior asked it to get up and walk. He was walking and fell into the ocean. There was complete silence. The warrior thought he will not see it, but then something came out. It was not the tree and sure looked different and new to him (can say looked handsome). It was thankful to the warrior because it was his creation. The warrior name it-HE and made him a protector of this land. He was pleased and said this is a land of magic and blessed him and all that was there and went away.

The warrior still moves from one dark space to another. He keeps moving, creating and shooting in the open space with his bow. It is very difficult to say what he would be creating…NOW.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/in-the-beginning/

Why should I….

…stop hoping, when hope means so many things.

sun

Hope is like the warmth of the sunlight, after a gloomy weather.

Hope is a promise of a new tomorrow.

Hope is the beginning of an early dawn.

Hope is like finding a comfortable house, when you get lost in the woods.

 

Hope is like getting fresh supplies of important things, when your supplies are over and out.

Hope is that end of the string that is endless.

Hope is that end of the shore which comes after a non ending horizon.

Hope is finding right pair of shoes for your outfit, for an important occasion.

house

Hope is the transformation of seed into a sapling, which later bears fruits and flowers.

Hope is a miracle to happen, sitting at a corner.

Hope is a strong desire to change things for betterment.

Hope is magical when nothing else works.

 

Hope is the only thing that keeps you fueled in the race of life.

Hope helps you to stem upwards, when the situations pull you downwards.

Hope is sometimes easy, and sometimes difficult.

Hope is sometimes a possibility, and sometimes a probability.

 

So, why should I stop hoping, when “hoping is the bright morning light after a dark dreary night”?