Countenances

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Countenances

The countenance escorting her presence befalls as a thousand questions showering as meteorites, on my awed face.

I have always known, for what now only seems centuries, that God is with me. In this moment though, my doubts are enhanced and my fears of existence, a little reinforced.

‘What is this state? What are these sounds enveloped in it?’, I find myself lost in this transfix of a controversy once again: Hadn’t I been a fool, yet again, to presume (without much evidence) that I was perhaps rid of the recurrences of this condition!..?

It all comes from Allah, I must not forget that either. This ‘condition’ I must own as my own; there is no attempting to escape the inevitable: else there is then further madness.

There is already enough madness here…not insanity, but pure madness, the good one. It’s the sort of ‘good’ that can occasionally turn bad too, though not without some useful consequences often then.

********

‘I know you are sad, may I help you?’ I ask. He doesn’t reply. I gaze at the innocent child masked in that cold face, from behind those dark-circled eyes. It is not all that hopeless, there is still a flicker, a shine there. He turns away that mask of a face, wants to hide the shine again.

He closes his eyes. I return to the realization I have to go, I have work to do. We are fortunate we met on the street and not elsewhere; or you wouldn’t have been able to shut your eyes so much at will, I couldn’t have walked away with so much ease.

 

 

Written: 09-09-2016.

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Nazm 28-08-2016

(Roman Urdu):

CHORUS:

‘Chalo phir, khud ko yunn tanha kiyay detay hain:

Ke apni hasrat’on ko hum fan’aa kiyay detay hain.’

Anarkali! Apnay haathon se kharaa ker hujra,

Ke qaid-e-ishq se aashiq’on ko rihaa kiyay detay hain.

(Chorus)

Jis khalwat mein khud ko patay hain, khud ko khonay ke baad:

Uss hasee’n khalwat mein reh ker alvidah kiyay detay hain.

(Chorus)

Tamasha hai gar’ puri hayat, intizar-e-marg mein,

Khoj-e-tamashai ki nazr, khud ko gawah kiyay detay hain.

(Chorus)

Khwahish-mand’ thay hum bhi kabhi shayad uss shauq ke,

Jis shauq-e-zindagi ke hijar se ab nibah kiyay detay hain.

(Chorus)

Written: 21-08-2016.

Supernova

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Supernova
I, alone as an exploding Supernova,
break into space as
a silent death,
an emerging new light.
You see me from
millions of light years afar,
and I am as bright
as the brightest shining star.
And, nobody but the Creator,
the master of all masters,
is here to share this feeling
in this alone space, with me.
I am light now, basking
in the light of this lightness!

Vision(s)

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An endless expanse, gleaming sands

stretch out, as Infinity

in the desert of my heart.

 

There is no time,

no time to be lost.

There is no time,

no time to be gained;

in the name of all things

worthy of winning…

Won only, to be yet,

lost again

in the winds of Time,

in the unsettling grain;

in more timeless spaces,

deserts of

undying hearts.

 

Today, once more

I wish to be alone.

Today, once more

I long for the silence

in the corners of my mind,

as an untamed river,

to exude:

to exude in the interplay

of Light, her darker

shades.

I long for the silence

to paint in a

Nothing Black,

the sobbings of this soul.

Stars as Atoms

 

As one who has touched

the face of Death,

As one who has drunk

from the cup,

sweet venom, of Life.

As one seeking

reflection

in the mirror, of all Divine;

the ship has long since

drowned,

in waiting, to drown.

 

Now I am free,

free as a sun-ray, from

a sunlit sky,

free to float

in the ocean of

Love.

 

 

Unbound Travel

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Half a century, I travelled East

Treading pathways; trading

thorns for smiles.

Time was melting in her hands;

Warm, with no fire,

it was burning

and melting, as wax

on blades of grass.

 

His eyes are made of frosted glass,

No light enters, nothing escapes.

 

From your gravestone, I pick flowers:

Flowers harvested for springs to come.

Lamps, dimly afloat in a crimson mist sky.

A quarter of my life transcended North,

then dropped back on swollen grounds.

 

A thousand salt tears, I travelled West!

 

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Missed Call

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Missed, in the innocent hope of a return;
In the abyss of regret,
I burn;
We hence begin to learn
The unvalued worth
of love, of human life.

II
This Earth shall
never see your gentle face
again:
Smiling and laughing
despite your pain…

For a poet borrows birth
in misery’s depth.
A poet dies
of the suffering of
others,
A poet dies
in the knowing of
his life’s bitter-sweet
Love
for shadowed departure.