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 middle of the neem orchard
where I'd preserved my best souvenirs all summer.
May the hollows of your soul brim bright with starry light
May you embrace your imperfections gallantly, tonight.