The Flute


Late Night Thoughts (Second Chance)


There will be a night when you would feel worthless, and you would think that there is no meaning to your life anymore. Your body would shudder and your lips would quiver in fear of being alive. You would think how will you survive another day? You would think maybe tomorrow will be worse than today, and you will again regret for not ending it the first time the thought came to your mind, that had coagulated all your hopes and potential.

And then with your trembling hands, you would open the drawer of your study and take out the paper-cutter or the scissor to stop everything at once; every pain, every disappointment, every reason, every hope and all your fears. You would place it on your wrist, and you would stare at the veins travelling from your wrist to your heart. You would think how delicate life is, and how God exposed the veins to heart while designing the body, letting us see the roots and veiling its branches with the skin.

At first you would cut if softly, because it isn’t easy, and nothing would happen. You would give it a second try thinking it is hard and painful, but it isn’t impossible and that you have to do it, for your life has become a mess. While placing the cutter on your wrist, you would pause for a moment and ask yourself; if you can give this a second chance, why you cannot give it to yourself?

Hello, everyone. I am starting with a series- Late Night Thoughts; relating to thoughts that our mind speaks in the silence of the night.

-Kritika Vashist

Another Day


Still, there’s another day,
to unfold the perspective,
hidden beneath your grief.
To chase the sun,
of laughter, you had forgot to see.
To unravel the philosophies,
of contentment, you once buried.

Still, there’s another day,
to fill your eyes with dreams,
That went down the watery grave.
To look at the moon and stars at night,
that teaches to shine in the darkness.
To ink your hand,
with words you love,
with meaning you find.

Still, there’s another day,
to drench yourself in the rain,
making you feel young again.
To look at the mirror,
telling you to meet yourself.

Still, there’s another day,
to know that you are a human,
and you do mistakes.
To know that pain is essential,
to realize the worth of pleasure
To give yourself a chance,
and breathe in a fresh air.

Still, there’s another day,
to forgive them for eyes,
they couldn’t see.
To forgive yourself for,
your voices you couldn’t hear.

– Kritika Vashist