Woke Up From Sleep

The lightning whitened the night sky

and the thunder woke me up;

everything still seemed like a dream,

I sat on the bed and could feel the cold,

maybe because the windows were open,

open to invite the wind inside.

A cold wave ran through me again,

like some dwindling shiver;

maybe because I wore linen,

linen that was too light for the weather.

I stepped down the bed,

and reached the window,

the sky was hovered by fast moving clouds,

clouds which let the moon peep occasionally.

I stood there weightless,

watching the moon as it got appearances

on the grants of the clouds;

what right did the clouds have

to decide when the moon gets to be seen?

Didn't the moon have a will of its own?

Is it so fond of reflecting light from others

that it has started to find enjoyment,

enjoyment in the reflection of my misery?

I kept staring at the eventful sky,

but my mind played the pictures of my life,

and I could look at myself as an outsider.

I could see my entire story playing ,

playing like a video on the sky like screen;

A drop of pearl seemed to roll down my cheeks.

it was heavy and encompassed all that I could feel-

sorry for the nothingness that my life pointed at,

useless and fruitless chaos ,no music , just noise,

noise with the jitters of struggles and the myths of glee.

The linen felt lighter and the drops from the eye heavier,

it was too cold to stand there and equally sad to look up ,

look up at my own life mocking my existence;

I turned around to grab a shawl,

and found it lying on the bed,

the bed which had my own body sleeping in peace with it.