Its a time when every one in the world is celebrating, dressed in their finest and resplendent with joy. They are playing his song for the first time today, his words, so powerful that the existence of music ceases to matter. And lovers dance, moving as one, to an overwhelming feeling. Weather some one came out on a first date, a casual encounter or to celebrate with their love, every one is soaked in the intense feeling that burns them with a vague yet acute desire for their partner. His cries of pain are fading away into the same music playing somewhere far away. There is a song in his heart, and you can hear it. Not by the sound of the music, but by the feeble , yet effort-full movement of his lips. Now there is a song on his lips.
As music starts, a man, gently holding on to the hand of his lady, leads her to the dance floor. With their dancing, but more so with the emotion brought forth by the words of his songs, the man and the women start becoming one. The hand that till now was only gently brushing over her delicate shoulders, now smears over her arm as if trying to get inside her skin. Her eyes that were till now dancing around and expressing joy are now staring right into his. The power of the music, the song, the words had brought the flamboyance out of all the lovers present in the hall.
Lying on his hard bed,he twitches his feet ever so slightly, as if checking to see if he still has some life left in his body. Its a dimly lit room, dulled by time, devoid of color, let alone any details.
His pale yellow face and his bloodshot eyes barely noticeable.
The red neon light darts across the floor, giving the golden yellow confetti an enthralling glaze in the back drop of a purposefully dimly lit ballroom. The songs continue to hold the couples on the floor and the breaths are getting heavier by the second. Inhibitions have taken away egos with them.
While some where else, the breaths are getting slower and slower. The medication has not taken away the disease, but only the pain, and with it the will to live. But not the will to create songs. The same twitch of the feet, well nearly. And nothing after that.
And as the crowd shouts for an encore , of his songs that were being played, a star is born.
And a Star who could never be has breathed his last.
As music starts, a man, gently holding on to the hand of his lady, leads her to the dance floor. With their dancing, but more so with the emotion brought forth by the words of his songs, the man and the women start becoming one. The hand that till now was only gently brushing over her delicate shoulders, now smears over her arm as if trying to get inside her skin. Her eyes that were till now dancing around and expressing joy are now staring right into his. The power of the music, the song, the words had brought the flamboyance out of all the lovers present in the hall.
Lying on his hard bed,he twitches his feet ever so slightly, as if checking to see if he still has some life left in his body. Its a dimly lit room, dulled by time, devoid of color, let alone any details.
His pale yellow face and his bloodshot eyes barely noticeable.
The red neon light darts across the floor, giving the golden yellow confetti an enthralling glaze in the back drop of a purposefully dimly lit ballroom. The songs continue to hold the couples on the floor and the breaths are getting heavier by the second. Inhibitions have taken away egos with them.
While some where else, the breaths are getting slower and slower. The medication has not taken away the disease, but only the pain, and with it the will to live. But not the will to create songs. The same twitch of the feet, well nearly. And nothing after that.
And as the crowd shouts for an encore , of his songs that were being played, a star is born.
And a Star who could never be has breathed his last.
