Pursuing sky in ember, burning the abrupt mighty roars in the shivering flickers of sensation that runs down the dark souls revealing the falsetto of life beyond the shadows.

Tinkers of heartbeats, finding paradise on the ground around the corner to see the castle of vicious seeds bringing down the kingdom of bruised souls to knees and patch them up to secretly chase the wait round-the-clock to continue the tale of two.

Novelty of thoughts murmuring while resting in the rust of that oddly even delight, goes louder and louder and screams the whispers of emotional leakage.

With her bruised soul, days were cold and nights being told for the redefined touches and absolute surrender. Entangled in the highs and lows of the marvellous abnormality of her dreams, all underneath the symphony of stars she wanted to rewrite and rewind to get her paper heart… beat again. It was not her fault, for you to know, as she was just another victim of circumstance.

Life is beautiful, sad, hopeful & fragile. All you have to do is to let your paper heart.. beat with the thrusts and have an autograph from the winds. May be you will find your wishes standing right by you staring at your face waiting for you to turn around and be the artist of getting by.

And the sound of love marching by, echoing its own tale of chaotic passion, delightful mistakes and tonic disasters.

Longings and belongings being snuffed by the puffs of autumn breeze, all along your way to freedom coloring your life with chaos of trouble. Petals of your convictions dancing in the aisle having their vows to make sure of the moment you are engulfed in. You were sinking then and floating now far..far away as you always were the lonely captain of your own voyage.

Tsunami of thoughts mumbling and jumbling, splashing and screaming on the rocks of orthodox of your untamed dreams. All the grumbles and echoes of your beating heart addressing for you not to be good enough as you are too scared to try. But when you are just about to have nightmares of losing, you don’t know how but somehow every stream seems to be in right flow as life has its own funny ways. All you had to do was to swing and Dream Louder.

The poetic rumbles and the soothing flicker of storm was all what to be felt by the two. As if silhouettes of each-other, submerged in the urge for to be together. They were the lucky ones for collecting memories alongside the lullaby of thick blanket of isolating clouds, Whistling through the willow reeds of melodic lights of heaving city streets.

Conspiracies of intercepted illusions of your adhoc hallucinations, bound by twists in mist of your secret confessions. Knocking and pounding on your front porch with chaos of trouble, just for you to sabotage your conscious. All played by your own elegance as if you are a Mime in a Thunderstorm.