Awake at four this morning,

My heart clutched at everything

Everything that mattered,

And some which didn’t even.

It was morning already,

But calm & soft as ever

The world around me silent,

And still crinkled a drop of tear.

A drop that turned into a puddle,

And slowly I was all evolved

Evolved in a process of staring,

Staring at the ceiling & pouring those moulds

Moulding drops cupped by my hands.

World was silent, but,

But life was happening, inside me

Tornadoes of satires life threw on us.

It was four in the morning,

It was moving & everything was stopped,

It was nothing.

But an interlude after all.

Apoorva Singh

Semester III-A, VSIT