It is a breakthrough like no other,
As the abstract fragments of my mind
Take shape through motions of a pencil.
Rustle of paper with the sound of faint strokes,
Announces the arrival of a new telling
As my skillful yet naive fingers turn the fresh pages.
It is a sheer breakthrough in my hands when,
I hold my diary which stores the evolution of my intellect, my soul,
Refining from the very first page to the last…
…The last, after which there is no stopping,
The last, which is yet another beginning,
The last, which knows no bounds, no end…