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Monday, May 2, 2016

A Galactic Nomad

Each day,she would watch the flickering rays inside the lighthouse at dusk ; no one ever fixed them - didn't look like it bothered them very much,though.Something descended towards its weary and obscure glass windows.The magnetism in the journey hallowed and echoed around the beach,reaching out for lost ships,unburdened ; the tale of the sailors who once led them now long forgotten.The flickering rays craved for their tattered,dirty sails and the eaten away mistakes of their masts now as if looking for fresh visitors,amidst waves of sarcasm - a sense in which they defied time.

Photographed by Veselin Malinov
(Source : Pinterest)

The mingling of waves lushed through the untrodden pathways that didn't look like they led to where they did.As if there was rhetoric excellence of sleepily hiding the secrets of macrocosm in the rooms formed by their overlapping of each other that mildly caressed the feet of the lighthouse,passing on the rhythm
they had in them.Its skin was now marred by their corrosive presence but each time at dusk,oblivion too knew that standing there,tall enough to touch what souls usually can with ease,could escape its being for once,inside a realm of fog transcending what limits feared to term.
The ashy,wet sky around engulfed the salty air in a spell then and tearing around the last strap of reminiscence,someone would softly murmur what the universe knows wouldn't be a mistake to say at that very point - that the waves now flickered shreds of rays,standing as tall as an unbeaten soul - as if a lighthouse.
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