One day, I kept staring at the stars, finding the one that is known to me, the one that share some unknown bond with me, the one that hears my unspoken words, the one that can make me sleep over restless nights. Arrested to rising emotions, what left to me was insatiate expectations and passionate words, penetrating dreams, ephemeral calls, which all made my fragile heart , obligated, grateful and hooked to the transparent impressions being engraved over the paper reciting echos reiterated every single second, that lasted for long breaking the mortal silence. Sometimes, they soared me aloft, sometimes they pushed me hard into the depth, Sometimes, they brought smile over my cheeks, sometimes, and they collapsed me into tears. But what made me love with those words, is their candidness to my soul, which warms me up from inside and tears me apart at the same time.
My frivolous oeuvre accosts to my pasts that limps along with me over the puddly marshes, annoying gravels, cuddly flowers and obscure ways. I recount my story, sewed tidily with the flowery dreams, recalling my instinct, compelling for unprecedented grin, that spoofs my failures, making me somewhat fell in eternal love with myself again.
I woke up at the morning, and bailing out myself from the night, comprehending with the scribble lying aside, and once again signing it up with my name "Yashaswi Goswami".