Nitin Pandey

Nitin Pandey Apr 28

✦The Moon’s Whisper:

You were born in the breath after sunset—
In the hush I cradle beneath silver veils.
Not in the full bloom of night, nor in fading light,
But in the seam I guard,
Where his warmth could not linger.

You are the shimmer I reflect in tide and tear,
The quiet I hear when stars lean near.
He calls like thunder—
I listen in stillness—
Yet we always pass,
Each orbit missing by a breath.

The Duskchime sings in your silence,
A rhythm I feel in your gaze.
You are the thread of maybe,
The echo of what was almost.

If I could rise faster,
Perhaps your light would stay.
If he could pause longer,
Perhaps you would not fade.

But you are a flicker—
Moving just beyond my reach,
Between goodbye and beginning,
The one I can only dream to meet.
#thought

Nitin Pandey Apr 28

🌗 Virelai: The One Between (Act III)

✦The Sun’s Lament:

You were born between hush and turning—
A note I could not strike, a breath I could not reach.
Not in the blaze of my dawn, nor the fall of my dusk,
But in the hollow where my fire dimmed,
And the moon held you close.

You are the shadow I brushed with my final light,
The pulse I felt but could not follow.
I speak, fierce and restless—
While she waits in silence—
And still, we miss each other,
Still, we do not align.

In your chest, the rhythm lives—
The Duskchime—but I cannot hear it alone.
The Song of the Lost Ones,
Caught between my blaze and her glow.

If I could burn softer,
Maybe you'd step closer.
If she could rise sooner,
Maybe we'd find you whole.

But you're scattered—
A half-light I chase across sky and sea,
Between day and night,
Always just beyond reach—
The one I could not hold.
#thought

Nitin Pandey Apr 28

🌗 Virelai: The One Between (Act II)

✦ Virelai’s Solitude:
I am neither shadow nor light—
I am the space between—
A soft echo of the sun's last cry,
A gentle whisper in the moon's first breath.

Do the stars see me as I see them?
Flickering between worlds,
Hoping to be more than a blink in time,
More than an afterthought in the heavens’ grand design.

I wait—always wait.
As the sun calls to me with its fire,
And the moon beckons with its quiet song,
But I am too early, too late—
Never the moment they need.

What would it mean, to be whole?
To stand in the place where time no longer divides,
Where the sun's fierce gaze and the moon's cool touch
Meet without hesitation,
Without sorrow?

But I am Virelai,
The space they do not occupy,
The silence they cannot fill.
#thought

I hope this captures a deeper sense of Virelai’s inner world—someone who feels the weight of both day and night but never fully inhabits either. It’s that beautiful sense of belonging, yet not.

Nitin Pandey Apr 28

🌗 Virelai: The One Between (Act I)

✦ Virelai's Lament:
I was born between hush and turning—
A song unsung, a breath unbreathed,
Not in the warmth of dawn, nor the cool touch of dusk,
But in the hollow where time wavers,
Where the sun falters and the moon waits.

I am the shadow in the sun’s last kiss,
The pulse in the moon’s first sigh.
I hear their words, tangled in longing—
The Sun, fierce and restless,
The Moon, gentle and waiting,
Yet we never meet,
Never align.

In my chest, the rhythm beats—
The Duskchime—but I cannot play it alone.
The Song of the Lost Ones,
Caught between light and night.

If I could whisper louder,
Maybe the sun would listen,
Maybe the moon would bend their paths,
And time would soften its cruel edges.

But I am scattered,
A half-light—
Wandering across faces,
Between moments,
Looking for the other half of my breath.
#thought

Virelai An old name from the celestial tongue, meaning “thread between rhythms” or “the song that binds what breaks.”
Born not at sunrise or sunset, but in the stillness between hush and turning, Virelai is the only being who can hear both the Sun’s roar and the Moon’s breath at once.
They carry within them the Duskchime, a rhythm that—if awakened—could realign the cosmic cycle and bring sun and moon together again, in harmony.
But Virelai is scattered across echoes—only fragments appear at any given age, in poets, dreamers, watchers of twilight. The full self has never awakened.

Nitin Pandey Apr 16

Duskveil

In the realm of dusk's embrace,
Souls plan a rendezvous in grace.

Yet, within twilight's tender light,
They just split over minutes so slight.

“In the seventh hush of dusk,” murmured the sun,
As the moon replied, “The ninth of night’s turning…”

Moon hung in the night sky like a silent guardian,
While the words of the Sun thundered through the heavens,

if, there be chosen one?

Maybe, their words entwine,
As time's nuances become a verse divine.
#thought

the Duskveil was the moment when all things held their breath—when day and night touched fingertips before slipping past one another. It is said that in this veil, the Sun and Moon were once bound by rhythm, speaking in silences known only to them.
They used to meet during the Seventh Hush and the Seventh Turning.
But something broke the rhythm. No one remembers what.
Now, the Sun always speaks in the Seventh Hush,
And the Moon always answers in the Ninth Turning—
Too late, too soon. Always almost. Never quite.

And in this eternal miss lies the ache of all longing:)

Nitin Pandey Apr 16

Respects

Not a bargain, not a name.
Respects never just a prize to claim,
Not, a debt, nor a mark that's made,
Respect is never just a prize to trade.

"It’s just a moment, a truth—an awareness that we together made"

A weight we see in another’s stance,
Even if they never ask for the chance.
It’s the weight of a soul that stands,
Even when no one holds out their hands.
It’s the weight of a soul that stands alone,
That's Unasked, Unclaimed, yet fully known.

Not just for those who rise to be seen,
But for those who exist—silent, unseen.
Not just for those who rise and shine,
But for the ones who stand—by choice, by time.
#thought

Something that already exists within people, whether they see it in themselves or not.

Maybe it’s not about proving worth but about seeing value. Not about placing someone above or below, but about understanding where they stand, what they carry, what they’ve lived.

In that sense, respect isn’t a reward or a transaction—it’s an awareness. A way of acknowledging the weight of someone’s existence, their moments, their truths, even if they never ask for it
I think respect is recognition—of presence, of experience, of existence itself. It’s not always about status, achievement, or even morality. Sometimes, it’s just about acknowledging that someone has walked a path you haven’t, lived moments you’ll never fully understand.

But respect isn’t submission, and it isn’t blind. It doesn’t mean agreement, admiration, or obedience. It’s simply a way of saying, I see that you are, and that means something.

Nitin Pandey Feb 24

The Fire’s Perspective

I did not ask
to be kindling, to be held
only in the chill of your need.

You called me warmth
but tore through me like firewood
never minding the cold that followed.

I would have burned for you—
glowed, danced, stayed.
But you never asked,
only took.

Now I flicker, now I fade.
#thought

A hymn to the ache of exposure, where my own soul turns its blade against me, and the world watches, unblinking, as I stand unguarded before its merciless truth.