My roof is bathed in perfervid moonlight of melancholy tonight. Silhouette of mine imbrued on it makes me yearn for existence of those stars of peace. Traces of this companions of moon are vanished from my sky ages ago, in this constantly changing universe. Achromatic winds are holding Letter in its one hand having datum about extending of this hollowness inside me a little longer and with consolation to keep growing in this whiff of struggles in the other. But I feel like an expatriate here, In this moonlight. Maybe cuz I'm meant to be resident of those stars presently which are far, really far away from me.