Three hundred dreams, now dust in the rain,
Three dozen hopes that vanished in pain.
Three broken words you left unsaid,
And three sharp echoes inside my head.
Three knocks at midnight, no one there,
Three empty chairs, three vacant stares.
Three days I wept, three nights I screamed,
For the life we had, and the love I dreamed.
Three truths I buried deep inside,
Three shadows where my tears still hide.
Three wishes whispered to the stars—
But none could stitch these scattered scars.
Loss is a number that haunts the soul,
A pattern repeating, a fractured whole.
And if I count forever on,
I’ll find you lost, though never gone.

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मौसमों की तरह जो बदले,
वो रिश्ते कहाँ टिकते हैं,
हम तो वो चराग़ हैं यारों,
जो आँधियों में भी जलते हैं।
हर मोड़ पर वक़्त ने बदला,
पर हम अपनी राह पे डटे,
ना दिल में धोखे की परछाईं,
ना बातों में कोई कटुता रमे।
वफ़ा को हमने पूजा जैसे,
ना भाव में कभी कमी आने दी,
सच के साए में चलते रहे,
झूठ की हवा ना हम तक आने दी।
तूफानों से लड़ते रहे हम,
पर अपने रंग न खोने दिए,
मौसम चाहे जैसा भी हो,
हमने वादे नहीं तोड़े कभी।

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In the Silence, I Speak

I trace your name in morning dew,
Pack your lunch with a quiet smile—
The kind that only lingers when
The heart has walked with you a while.
I save the last bite on my plate,
Keep sweaters warm just in your size.
I read the books you love the most
And laugh where your favorite line lies.
Your missed calls—never missed too long,
Your favorite song—my morning tune.
I know the sky looks best to you
When it’s painted by the moon.
I listen close to all you say,
Even when the words are few.
I don’t say love out loud—but oh,
Everything I do is you.

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“I memorized your voice, hoping silence would someday echo it back.”

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Beneath the sky so vast and free,
I wandered far beside the sea.
The wind would whisper soft to me,
A tale of stars and destiny.
In every wave, I found a plea,
To dream beyond what eyes could see.

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I'm a reader, lost in woven tales,
Of dragons, dreams, and ships with sails.
Each page a world, each word a key,
Unlocking thoughts inside of me.
By candlelight or morning sun,
I journeyed far, though I had none—
No map, no plan, just ink and fire,
Stories that never seemed to tire.
I borrowed voices, lines, and lore,
Till echoes knocked upon my door.
And in that hush, my hand grew bolder,
The whisper grew into a soldier.
Now ink flows not from others’ might,
But from my soul in black and white.
For every tale that sparked my ember,
I owe a flame to each remembered.

I’m no longer just a tale reciter—
I’m the reader,
turned into a writer.

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Beneath the golden morning skies,
Unfinished dreams begin to rise,
Steps grow quicker, hearts beat fast,
Yearning for a peace to last.

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Tears fall in silence, no one sees,
Smiles I wear are just a disguise,
Inside, a storm that never leaves.

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They said walk straight, don’t skip the cracks,
Don’t dream too loud, don’t talk back.
Wear the mask and play the part,
Hide the fire in your heart.
They told me silence is polite,
To dim my spark, to not ignite.
To color inside the lines they drew—
But I was born to break right through.I won’t shrink to fit a mold,
Or trade my truth for glittered gold.
I’ll dance in rain, I’ll speak my mind,
I’ll leave their fear and rules behind.
Not every path is paved and neat,
Some are wild beneath your feet.
But I’d rather lose in being real,
Than win in chains and never feel.
So here I stand, unbowed, unbent—
A soul unshaped by their cement.
Let them write their rulebook new,
But I’ll keep writing mine, too.

Want a shorter version or something with a different tone—funny, angsty, romantic?

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ହାହୁତାସ ଜୀବନ
ଯନ୍ତ୍ରଣା ଦାୟକ ଗରମ
ଜନ ଜୀବନ। ଅସ୍ତ ବ୍ୟସ୍ତ
କଣ। ? ସୃଷ୍ଟି ର ସ୍ଥିତି ସ୍ଥାୟୀ ତ ??

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