And on days your head juggles
between pursuit of the ideal,
safe net, fame & acceptability_
Close your eyes & listen to the heart.

It knows.
__________

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There's a part of us that's tenderly genteel,
swan like_ that when moves,
halls stare, in awe_
Like a kind that sways with ease,
and swarming around shall remain eyes.

But again then comes the part of us that's
fierce, voracious, tiger like _ that when rises,
halls halt, breath caught in throat _
Like a league walking in
to claim every step as thine.

Oh, we're a darn melange of things many, मेरी जान,
but dissected in just, proportions different.

Some are more, on the flowery side,
while all some do, is exhale fire_

__________

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All the poets, writers, shayars,
and people particulary into field of
art & expression, either as daily profession
or as mere, a leisurely pursuit_
often seen as masters of expression,
an utter oxymoron!
In truest of abstract sense, suffer,
not of unrequitedness_
but from a suffering of incapability,
to express, the vast expanse of fluidity
bottled within.
____________________

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Of all the things that I desire,
dearest God,
I desire not
to remain a story,
almost.
__

Jhol से Ishq तक के सफ़र की हसरत हैं मुझे।
________________

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An evening.

- a story.

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When you fall too much for a book_

// Blabber Captioned //

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