She was walking down the lane. The caliginosity of the night hovered over her face, everything was a shade of the grey. She sat under the streetlights. That night she was not subliming the moon. She was cogitating the emptiness. Her eyes seemed like connecting points and were moving towards infinite, searching for the end.

She was numb, her mind was experiencing nihility. The impetus that could prove adjuvant to wrest her from aloofness was inaccessible. She always knew the course was going to be tough, but she believed she will do it anyway.

She tried to sense the moonlight. As she was pondering over the past and the present, a tiny ball of water rolled down around the corner of her eyes.

She allowed herself to come out in the stream. She withdrew her trepidation. Her senses dipped in emotions that she never felt before. The somber night, when the entire city was grappling their endearment dreams, she was pulverizing.

Her lips curled to adorn her face with a beautiful smile mixed with nostalgia. She has slogged for hours day and night, going beyond the limits, she has dredged up her own way against all odds, insurmountable agony she has gone through; reminisces of her struggle burst into tears.

After all, she made her way towards her success. It was the time for celebration. She prized for her endurance.

Her desires to make her existence out in this world was at peak, she was finally living her dreams. Her victory was not so big for applause, but for her, it was a milestone that she successfully consummated.

Here came the moon, piercing the bellied clouds, the sole witness of her tenacity. The whole night, it caressed her with its nonchalance, eulogizing her victory.

She knows that the journey has just started, she has to spread her wings far-off. Because she is born to touch the lives of many.

The art of fulfillment is the ability of not only experience the thrill of the chase. But also the magic of the moment. the unbridled joy of feeling truly alive. Click To Tweet

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