It is that time of the night,
when everything around sleeps.
Silence reaches out tenderly,
and touches the chord of reflection.
Together they walk slowly,
down the hours, days, months and years.
Stopping here and there at random,
or looking for something.
Satisfied, happy and proud sometimes,
discontent, sad and remorseful sometimes.
And so, on and on, hand in hand, in the stillness,
accepting everything, changing nothing.
They walk on crushed dreams,
they walk on dried streams.
They walk on the bubble of laughter,
they walk on the before and the after.
The silence and the reflection.
So much harmonised,
So difficult to different.
Every night till the sounds,
riding on the light of dawn,
interrupts and separates.
until the dusk, not near,
neither too far.