Magic.

Nakupenda is my music,

the fire that nourishes my soul

the song we all dance to

what makes us whole.

And the theory of everything.

For it is magic

we feel tonight. 

on this kaleidoscopic day of alignment of stars.

And don't you witness the beauty tonight

and the cosmos coming together 

for you?

Isn't it cosmic?

Magic inhabits us all

we go back to black 

we go back to beauty, to terror, to feel;

let it all happen to you, beauty or terror, 

flow. 

Let the music wash over

be relentless, the stardust spilling from you shines,

your eyes sparkle as you love with fresh eyes your lover.

Listen to the song of the Universe, my love, listen to it's echoes. 

The reverberations that continue till the end of all existence, 

carry forth this love. 

We are eternal, 

the song is eternal, 

this is the song of the Universe. 

Isn't it cosmic? 

The wind carries forth the petals that spread all around, 

the dance of souls continues as long as the song plays. 

For it is eternal, 

this song. 

Be abashed with the force of the Universe,

look love, it smiles for you. 

There are great sorrows and great joys, 

and what more meaning than to spread this bittersweet 

longing, love, sadness. 

You firestar, burst of moon-shine, 

spread your energy, 

it's all the Universe's anyway. 

Never cling too long, 

Carpe Diem is the term. 

Pay attention to the details, 

an attentive driver is beloved than a careless one,

who wrecks everything; but you create.
Fight and fight, for that is existence,
a dance to last, a dance to feel divine,
complete, love. 

Play and dance your way through existence,

with the song of the Universe. 

Rejoice, love, feel,

inhabit, read, believe. 

Isn't it cosmic?

Dance to the greatest song of all. 

The song of the Universe, love, 

look inside, you're a star. 

My star.

Drown in this twisted happiness, love,
we never get more such chances,
'my experience tells me we never get more than once or twice'
and these are changing winds, my star.

Hold on and do not let go.
Let it carry you off somewhere.
Return to love anew.

Inhabit the Universe, love,
feel the cosmic song vibrating in your atoms,
know what you never were promised,
seek it, believe.

This is the song of the Universe,
love, look inside.

You're a star.
The sheen blinding and
the lambent light washing over.

Dance to the song, love.
Live with all your might.

Witness the greatest song of all, love.

Isn't it cosmic?  

"When I was a kid, I was fascinated by space. And I learnt that time slows near a black hole. Inside a black hole, time stops altogether. Whether or not will this theory ever be proved, I am moved to believe that this would be the perfect place to love someone."

We agreed that this was too perfect.
He said he'd find me there- somehow. And that we'd escape together.
Escape to a black hole.
Where time stops.

The perfect place to love someone.

I told him I'd wait. He smiled.

How long?

Long enough to be with you. 

You do realize we'd be 27 years apart, don't you? 

You could learn to like older women. 

He grinned.
I marveled at the brilliance of that grin.

The Sun was beginning to set.

Watch the stars with me, tonight. For one last time.
Before I cease to exist.

That ending left me feeling as if the cells of my lungs had evaporated, leaving me unable to breathe, with only a burn in my chest. As if my lungs had incinerated.

These paradoxes are such, such funny things.

How could he cease to exist when he was in front of me right now, right there?
Living, breathing.
Loving, leaving.
Grinning, sparkling.

Destined to not be, crumbling.
~

Terms.

Susan Cain's TedX video is a beautiful testimony to the fact that introverts are amazing people.
And so are tumblr sites. And Luchie's Introversion comic.

It made me think of what I am.
I don't believe in terms, but I do know that we are bound to live by them, or else we'd be called lunatics and won't survive.

Also, living by terms is more interesting. I'll explain all this later, when I feel like it.
(That's how I do stuff. When I feel like it.)

But what I feel right now- is the confusion- regarding 'which term' is for me.
Am I extroverted?
Introverted?
Or am I an ambivert?

It's better to not believe in terms- when it comes to what kind of a person one is based on their social prowess. Because it all depends on the situation.
But then again, because it depends on the situation at hand, it is important to know what one is.

An introvert could act as if he's really extroverted, and no one would ever know.
If my Fountainhead goes around talking loudly and horsing around, it really does not mean he is extroverted.
He is having fun. He is not an extrovert.

I could be coming to that party where everyone is going to.
I find solace in the fact I can easily lie about why I am not coming and just avoid confrontations.
I hate drama.
And it's lovely to stay at home and eat and grow fat reading books and watching anime.

I do take risks.
Everyday.
Just talking to a person so boldly as I've lately begun doing is a lot for me.
I can stand up to my class, now, and talk.
It's still a risk, even if now I can at least talk. It's still a risk because inside- I'm crumbling with embarrassment.
And then I shrug it off, as certain people have taught me.
It bothers me, in the moment, though.
I still hate public speaking.
I don't think I'd ever be able to do it.
Giving speeches, reciting, enacting a drama- it really isn't for me. Even if it is something that I can attempt without dying, it isn't for me.

A fish can't learn to fly.
But it can at least attempt a leap outside the water, can't it?

And people who think introverts are shy people who can't love-
Think again.

We love fiercely, with passion.
Think of Lyra and Will.
Estha and Rahel.
Two cats swishing tails.
The Little Prince. And his rose.

We love so fiercely, we lose ourselves.

Coming back to a term-
I think you know what it is, Fountainhead.

Nay, we aren't introverts.
Nor extroverts- that's laughable.
Ludicrous.
Ambiverts?

We aren't what these terms define people as- based on their social skills.

Nay, nay.

We are simply humans who don't like to talk to people who don't matter.
The popular ones, the fabulous ones.

What defines what is 'popular' anyway?

We're not.

And even if somehow, some of us become so, (you there) we never thought of being so.

And even then, it doesn't matter, does it?

Becoming popular does not mean you have changed.
It just means more people acknowledge that you're existing.
And look forward to seeing you.

It also does not mean you always reciprocate that. (Mental xD)

And the kind of people we are- we like to shout our hearts silly to people who at least strike the same chord as us.
People on our orbits, or who we orbit, they're much too intimate to even decipher. They already share our very soul, our very wavelength.

People like those- however few- are treasures. Diamonds. The ones who share a chord are gold. Silver, platinum, your choice.

That's why people are astonished when we tell them we are actually quite introverted, if they are in want of a colloquial term.

They can't believe that we- people who are seen in breaks shouting and running and chasing and being silly- can be introverted.

But we are.
And not 'introverted' but a term which we know, and we understand.

And we know what is truly of consequence, and we are true.
And we are different.

But we are human.
Only human.

Sputnik.

Will you be my sputnik?
I'll be the star you'll revolve around.
The star of your focus.
If only you'd be my sputnik.

I'd shine with all my might for you.
I'll smash the electrons of my heart
To burn brighter
And I'd give up on being a Red Giant
Or a supernova-
If only you'd be my sputnik.

Be my sputnik
We'd scale the universe
We'd see it all
We'd saunter past Black Holes
And narrowly escape solar coronas

If only you'd be my sputnik. 

Ad Astra.

She whispers to the stars every night.
The soldier falls asleep looking at them.
In the same open field, fireflies fight to shine brighter than their brothers in the skies.

The child finds his mother's face among the stars.
The stars remind the lover of his beloved.
His beloved wishes upon a star every night;  for the soldier to return home.

She wishes her sister back as well-
little knowing that her sister has been enchanted by the stars; they speak to her as she deals with her brother-in-law's wound, whose body lays on the cold, hard ground, face upturned, drinking in the glorious night.
Drinking in the stars.

She whispers to the stars that night that she's afraid.
The stars console her. They tell her that soon enough, she'll come to them.
She lets a tear trickle down her face.
It falls on the soldier.
He smiles at receiving the tear of the star-whisperer.
Tears from the Land of Tears- a secret place.
He can't go there just yet.
He needs to get drunk first.
He drinks in the night; for he's unsure as to what tomorrow might bring.

The child tightly holds on to his aunt's arm, as she wishes upon a star again, the next night, miles away from the field.
Today he tries to look for a ghost among the stars.

But the stars seem dimmer.
And no dead man's face, nor a wish is to be found or heard, that night.

Because miles away lies two bodies.
Of a star whisperer and a man drunk on the stars.
And the stars seem to weep for the loss!
Of two humans they fell in love with.