Here I am, in the middle of the night, full of enthusiasm, frivolously typing these words that have just swept my mind, which a few moments ago was lazing about.
The night always had this spell upon me; with the senses heightened, and emotions doubled. Be it my melancholia or the ardent love, the painful pangs or the happy hues, frightful fears or the bouts of bravery. Things have a way of gripping me more as the night progresses. And that is always why I have ended up with most of my writings in the dead of the night when all around me was snoozing in serenity. And yet for me this serenity was never a lullaby but times when my mind is always conjuring up ideas and thoughts, laid lost in the brightness of the day.
Mornings arrive and people wake up all beaming while I wake with a longing for the night past, looking out for the setting day and the darkness once again, for it is only then I feel most myself of everything that I am.
The night always had this spell upon me; with the senses heightened, and emotions doubled. Be it my melancholia or the ardent love, the painful pangs or the happy hues, frightful fears or the bouts of bravery. Things have a way of gripping me more as the night progresses. And that is always why I have ended up with most of my writings in the dead of the night when all around me was snoozing in serenity. And yet for me this serenity was never a lullaby but times when my mind is always conjuring up ideas and thoughts, laid lost in the brightness of the day.
Mornings arrive and people wake up all beaming while I wake with a longing for the night past, looking out for the setting day and the darkness once again, for it is only then I feel most myself of everything that I am.