The Midnight Vista

Its amazing how a blessing in disguise can turn a passive night into an aura filled with fragrant chills under the midnight firmament.
Typing with my fingers feverishly on the keyboard, i was sitting on the chair, putting my thoughts into an essay in course. All the doors in the house bolted, all exits sealed, it was almost midnight and all but me deep in the slumber. All of a sudden, the power snapped off, and I cursed the Department for it as my thoughts were about to materialize into alphanumeric codes.

Getting up in disgust, with the whole house grew pitch dark. i walked my way to the terrace door, blindly watching every step i took, feeling the objects with my hands, before i rammed into the staircase iron. Limping ahead i reached the spot. Opening the door, i stepped outside, all to see the whole locality engulfed in a never ending darkness, with a criss-cross of rays from the nearby traffic lights. I trod ahead to the swing on the terrace, and sat beneath its umbrella fibre.

Sitting in solitude, I began to gaze at the black cover up above the heavens. But it was hard to find the stars twinkling their presence. I soon realized that cloud cover in the sky. I looked at the moon, peeping from its hiding, playing hide and seek behind the clouds. I wondered what really made the poets and the lovers pen down their thoughts around the moon, making their lives dictated by the little ball. I brushed my thoughts and continued my examination of the night that fall. A row of houses in my view, with no hush from any corner, which was occasionally broken by the low bark of a distant dog (must have been a Pomeranian).

Moments later, the slow mists of air changed into breezy currents, catching the fragrance of the lily in my garden, soothing my nostrils as the air rushed into my nose. Gradually the wind foisted around. And i sat, sinking into a reverie of thoughts of by-gone days and the lost "love".
As i emerged from my cherished thoughts, i could hear the wind whistling through my ears, curling and weaving as if to say something. The Ashoka Trees swaying from side to side like an upside pendulum as the wind tried to take it along. The rustling of leaves and crashing of the articles, the wind had carried along on its wings, rendering a musical tone to the scene.
Very soon it arrived, but to my dismay, it was only tiny droplets, that did not even wet the naked parts of my body. The sky began to show signs of lightening, as if GOD was clicking snaps from his new digital camera. The intensity of the precipitation did not increase, and very soon, the whole stage looked as if it was just for the wind to play around. It continued till the whole night. I retreated to my room, crept into a deep slumber, never knowing when my fan started its never ending journey of the night. But the breeze through the night or should I say, the "winds of change", were enough to 'F5' the life