well I had never been into writing or reading from the days of Past..it hasn't been an easy job to stare at alphabets arranging themselves to make a word which can put a havoc of emotions flowing through veins in the blank sheets of infinite possibilities.

this all went insane from the Day I thought I would write down each and every happening of my life in these sheets...

But, but..this sounded Just like counting those luminous objects in the mid of night lying back on my stone cold terrace...it never ended;

I went on writing things randomly I praised each drop of rain, wrote each sunlight, gazed every phase of moon, felt each wind passing by;

the realisation ended up with a simple thought which was inside my wordrobe of memories that- before Putting up a knife in the name of Pen,. and carving words in the name of Poetry..... somewhere I Needed to know....why is it so??

why is it needed to have a night before the sun rise..

there's a wide space above my head where things float, there's no words...but they talk!!.....they talk about everything which has happened, in happening or will happen...they exchanged in the the medium of frequencies..a Language hard to understand and never to end..