It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own hands that love should come to cure us—else what use is love at all?

I'm flowing in the air,
  I'm dancing on the sky, for you,
  I'm crying in the moonlight,
  I'm waiting everyday, for you,
  Everything is for you.

He gave me a last dark look, not admitting defeat,not giving an inch .I watched him with unexpected regret. Watched him until the consciousness went out of his eyes and they were simply open but seeing nothing.

Written By Samarendra mohanty

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