Tonight, the sky didn’t shout.
Tonight, the sky didn’t shout.
It whispered.
The moon stood quietly behind the bare branches,
like a thought half-spoken…
like a memory that refuses to fade.
There is something sacred about such nights —
when darkness isn’t empty,
it is full of silence.
Full of pauses.
Full of reflection.
Meerut sleeps,
but the moon watches.
And in that stillness,
you realise…
even shadows have stories.
— StudioDharma
