This, once was my home. I was taken away from it, but my soul still resides there.

It was here that my flag soared, my soul becoming one with everything around me.

This place can't be bought, this place can't be sold, this place can't be given away or broken down.

This place is a shrine. It's the shrine of my first teachers.

They taught me the world, they taught me myself, they taught me you, they showed me God.

I will always be found in this place, frozen in that time.

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nothing on the hands,
but the soul feels it.

Maybe, I need the dusty tomes of unsaid words to weigh me down,
I've been told that my soul flutters a lot.

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It is as much a task to gather the will to write thoughts
as much as simply writing them down.

For I am not a writer who can pen out a line on demand.

I stay quiet until I no more can.

I write when my heart becomes so full
that it cannot contain the tears within
and they flow out of my pen as words and ink.

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Let your memories lie.

Do not stir them with the spoon of truth.

Let them drip sweet poison into our dreams.

Do not question their sanctity.

Just believe that they are the truth.

For the human mind sometimes, craves the solace of lies.

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जानवरों पर इल्ज़ाम न दो दोस्त,
यहां सदियों रह कर हमने बस इतना ही जाना

यहां जानवर रखवारी करें,
जब हम पर हाथ उठाये ज़माना

वो इन्सान ही हैं जो इन्सानियत ना समझे,
लेकिन उन्हें जानवर कहे ज़माना

धुंधला गई है फर्क की लकीरें अब ज़बानो मे,
अब आदमी ही आदमी पर भौंकता है,

इंसान ही इंसान की भाषा न बोले,
और इन्हे परज़ुबान कहे ज़मानाा।

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The first shy glance,
The first blush and smile,
Are all as fleeting as chance,
For fates move a minute a mile.

The heart will bloom,
Dance in the rain,
And be wrapped in gloom,
End up with pain.

For as the milk so pure,
Goes sour in the end,
Love unrecognized goes bitter,
And all emotions are drained.

Just as a rose withers away,
Stubborness gives way to fate,
The eyes stop their sway,
And Love meets it's expiration date.

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We were so much

In love with humans,

That we forgot

We were humans too.

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Help me.

Two words.

"Help".
"Me".

Easy to utter, but hard to call out.

Words echoed in silence, but shrouded by noise.

A plea easily felt, hardly ever answered.

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that it is love!

It is so selfless that it makes people selfish.
Lesser humans have succumbed to it.
Greater ones have carried it like a cross.
You don't escape it,
it just decides to take you later.

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some words we like,
some, we become...

some lives we seek,
some, we become...

some thoughts we inspire,
some, we become...

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