To the flawed and the fabulous.
Thank you. Let us leave it there. I'm not in the mood for your version of things. All I crave for is some sleep. May the night iron out all things gone wrong. No. Don't be guilty, please. We were meant to be this way, to be blundering, thinking machines that switch down to feeling at times too raw. Let's sleep on it. May the stars come out to dust away the creases on your forehead. If I've learnt anything at all, through all these days, it is this: The Truth is too powerful for us to receive. Your truth, and my truth, may never meet; they may never merge. But one can never devour the other, period. The universe is dotted with many truths that lie side by side. Sometimes they slide, at times collide. The stars that are up there tonight, may they lead the minds away from the burden of proof. May they sing to us the song of the beginning that remind us how beautifully flawed we are. Like the hollow in the solo tamarind tree that stands in the midd
