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1, 2, 3, 4,... and to distinction.

For a moment, had I been counting all the stars I've been with throughout the night/s of improper use of an unusual privilege. Every star twinkling over me, had been more likely insignificant as though Heaven blessed me with an unrealized thought, I being mixed with the notion of a blissful stay, which had been so light to let go. This was but the undisputable belief for living not in a way to leave, not just one-two-three but a lot.

Now, the stars in the night sky had been too few to count.

It was then at this moment that I felt, so insisting, begging for more numbers to count, for more light to shed over me as I stroll, for more nights of recovery. I'd love to reach out for more till "infinity and beyond" [who wouldn't?], but necessity had been pardoned for one new age to come. It's when the decision stood still, but not for me.

It's when, I wanted to be possessive of what had it granted me, or maybe just lent me. A new horizon which, as time flew over, I gained much sight to see what's unseen, the benefit of an amity abloom, still striving, and then, in just one blink of the eye, would turn to an illusion, which I refuse to happen.

5, 4, 3, 2,...

This is not what I wanted, but what can I do. What has to separate, has to.

Reviews

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This is so good. I love the first lines. I like in your bio where is says that you write what you want. Thats great. Keep writing I would love to read more from you