BEING HUMAN!

I burst the blisters that cling to my flesh,
To dye the blood, with my frozen hands;
My cracked heels, thawing toes, perform,
A strange barter, between me and sands.

Together we grow, Together we suffer,
Finding our way, through times untold;
Moving past mirages, searching for oasis,
That exists, for we believe, will unfold.

I wouldn’t reach, the desired place,
I was desert, Desert was me;
I still fought on, shifting landscapes,
Churning constantly the cosmic sea.

I knew, the oasis was within me, yet,
Centuries of time to seek and strain;
Becoming the oasis, drop by drop,
Let go the desert, grain by grain.

The eternal moment on the vortex stands,
As the epochs ripple along with lands;
Yet I know, I will transform,
Renouncing the oasis, revealing the sands.

DREAMS.

They stay suspended in reality,
Hanging down from the lush gardens,
Of green words with ripened fruits,
They grow on huge trees, ages old,
Long, thick, off shoots of language,
With heaving tentacles that,
Penetrate back into the earth,
Be one with the soil,
In the embrace of the roots,
To rise up all over again,
Undaunted yet again,
With new flowers,
Fragrance, Which rises and grows within,
Till all the senses are intoxicated.
To gather the world and ignite life.

for long...

for long i stayed...

with unfinished words,

that form in the heart,

play with my mind,

settle on my lips,

and refuse to move out,

the ink spreads on the paper,

pen stops mid way and,

they detach themselves from me,

aflutter they hover around me,

leave me bemused,

till the time,

i no longer wish to imprint them for the naked eye,

i loose myself in those endless hues,

those lines that are not,
of words that will never be,

a wild serenity will live inside me.

for long...

Shikwa...

Khaak hote in anjaan lamho ka kya kije,
Tujhse na ho baat, fir lafzon ka kya kije;

Beparwah shor-o-gul ke beech hai khoti,
Is kambhakt beimaan zubaan ka kya kije;

Khwab dekhkar taameer bhi kar lete hum inhe,
Is adhkhuli adhjagi aankh ka kya kije;

Deewangi ki koi had dhoti to paar karte,
Is besabab beadab raftaar ka kya kije;

Khuda se maangte gar khuda hume nawaazta tujh se,
Is be mauke ramzaan me azaan ka kya kije;

Baith-te har us mehfil me jahan zikr ho tera,
Is bad-mizaaz bad-dimaag jahaan ka kya kije;

Fursat hoti to har ik lafz sajate tere naam se duniya k liye,
Badzaat is waqt ki guhaar ka kya kije;

Sailaab hota to karte thaamne ki koshish hum koi,
Palak se jude is there tufaan ka kya kije;

Junoon hai ki zalzala le aaye jahan bhar ki khushi,
Jo khud hi se dare hum, aise jazbaat ka kya kije.

Or so it seems...

Standing in front of a pool of water,
Gazing at the depth increased manifold,
The consciousness searching for my origin,
The eyes feasting on the clarity yet untold,
I loved the ugly reflection inside,
I liked my universe smiling back at me,
The same scum, the similar marshes,
The sultry, simmering, summer swamps
The hungry bog with its doomed tentacles,
Spreading the plague; through irresistible clamps,
I was merely looking at an artificial pit,
With a mirror base,
That produced the oceanic mirage,
Recreating the depth,
Rewriting the history,
Refashioning my past;
Entranced I stood,
Bound to the now beautified ugliness,
By a conscious surrender of the search,
I felt tired and weary,
Or so it seemed…