Two were walking down the street. Festivity was on the way, men and children with their mothers rejoiced among the adverse conscience. Every time those two   could find the happiness, some standards piled up on their hearts. It was a bizzare night, darkened one in between the pearcing brightness. For them it was a walk of disgrace in the other eyes, but a spark was evident , so simple but powerful. Every stone they were turning, rolled their fear into dungeon, in that turning there was smile only with a cluster of hope. People say when men love they can not think anymore different than loving, which they never  compromised.  The more they walked, everything got lonely, but it was a treat they were about to get from nature, what on earth is more blissful than a night with love to love under the thousand galaxies. Those festively arrangements never surpassed their coy and desire. Silence was never bigger than their exposure of eyes, which seemed to be travelled an ocean before and were waiting to dive again. That Street got more narrowed, as humans tend to be at times when the reverse is needed. That Street had given them  the time to evoke as they wanted. But time can be all and even can be nothing at all. As it passed , sky got wider and enough to get inspired through the star light, the drops of love was dripping down the streets , melting the stars. There they got more strength and night began to grow bigger and wiser. Other activities were getting stopped, because they did not want to be the night spinner, they wanted to confine that in a room full of darkness and hopelessness where families of social norms live. The abonden outer was never small and heartless for those two men, city at night they thought to be strange but that strangeness was way more lovely than any strange veil they put everyday. It was all they had for that moment which was a life itself in it. The colours changed with the moments of sheer splendid where they found themselves. The faded festive prisms belonged nothing but behaved as an orphan who didn’t live but had days of unsolved mysteries, alike the fear of those unwinged doves. That moment didn’t lie but chose to conceal the eyes of unmatched people, who never measured them in that same cup, it might had been the most difficult part of life. At a glance they saw a girl walking down the path, life might have took her there where she was in her own self. These words were not mouthed but they just saw her eyes wide open in chaos of opinion, and all came forth. She too passed that Lane of selfishness and it’s not quite wrong always. Now waves have gone by but the remains of giving stood still there like a pillar of strength and love. They didn’t know the name of that path and they didn’t intend too. Beauty was there forever but for those who sought only realized.  They left that part of them there where they lived only.