My mother often compared me to the rising Sun.
She said that I had a smile that shone brighter. A 1000-Watt smile.
She said I had mountains to climb, the peak to reach. And I'd be like the morning Sun, rising till the zenith. And shining brighter.
But, I was more like the evening glow of the red hued Sun. I burnt myself in my own passion. I stayed away from attention, yet couldn't help but crave for it. I wasn't a leader, neither a follower. I stood, barely above the horizon crowds and still made a change.
I was an ending story, that still continues in hearts. I was the ending that would begin again tomorrow, something you'd wait for, untill the dusk. I was someone, who would sink in his mistakes, but have the courage to swim back to the surface.
I didn't yearn for the limelight, or uncountable followers.
I wanted a few people I could call my own. Those who'd gaze at the sunset, and say, and believe, that,
Could be beautiful, too.