Ink

Writers and lovers often use dramatic words like insanity, infinity, absurdity, stars, universe, void, abyss, darkness. I’m still confused how should I distinguish them, they may possess different meanings but they seem similar in my very own essence. Each and every word is simply cosmic.  

Spirit is one who is unfolding their usage in buried secrets and stories. Writers aren’t insane. They’re actually sane, it’s just beauty of a mess and charm of dark is known to them and unknown to others. 

Have you ever thought what takes a writer to inscribe a story which is buried deep down in his heart. It isn’t easy to inscribe when the agony is refilled, killing one with each alphabet he inks on the paper. When hands are shivering, tears are unstoppable, each time an alphabet is inked, a strange twinge is drawn. Stories may be fictitious but sufferings and griefs can’t be. 

Writers underworld is full of pain, secrets, lessons, and distinct impressions. Nobody is capable enough to judge one’s footsteps.