Freedom

Going out into the darkness of the night
from the cozy luminance of my room,
I embrace the life of wandering through
the grief and sorrow of the sleeping world.
I can feel my senses heightened to smell
their silent dreams and see the warmth of blood
that flows within their arteries and veins,
like a stealthy, nocturnal beast of prey
that hunts alone for itself in the woods.
Sadness has a muskier odor than joy,
from the scent of countless dreams I have smelled
I know, grief is more eternal than bliss
and sorrow is heavier than happiness.
As I stalked around for the darker dreams
bitter in taste but fleshier to sustain
myself for the coming day and some part
of the evening too, an abundance
of them was too obvious to overlook.
I remember the days when I was young,
the woods were less free but nightmares too
were much harder to find on nights as dark
as a grave, when I can see through the woods
with eyes sharp and sound like a hungry owl.
But then freedom came and the woods were free
twenty years ago and things started to change,
dictators gave away to democrats.
Gradually nightmares and sorry dreams
grew in numbers and soon the woods at night
were teeming with them mewling for some space.
As the first light of the dawn paints the breeze
golden, I retire while the sleeping world
sheds off dreams in these woods of walls and bricks.

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The Colors of Passion (An Epic Tale of Love)

We touched the river’s silver, flowing feet
by dipping ours into it, as the sun
was drowning behind the rogue, crimson cloud.
The lonely moon, ever in pursuit
of her love, rising as her lover drowned
while the dazzled earth beheld, in silent awe,
the colors of passion across the sky
near the western horizon where the trees
and the fire in that cloud kissed each other
with the fervor of a decade long goodbye
in the shadow of a love, much loftier
but steeped in solitude and tragedy.
As evening came, darkness intensified
and some tiny flecks of light, far away
became visible though none was close enough
to garble the scene of an epic grandeur.
Nor could the noise or the dust of the town
invade the serenity of nature
still virgin and fresh from us, all around.
When we emerged from the river of love
the evening have matured to a night
and those tall blades of grass, dark against
the trees ahead, seemed happy too, like us
and with water dripping onto the ground
we left the place where on the coming dawn
when her love would rise the tired moon should drown.
The colors of passion would change the side
from west to east on the vast, silent sky.

… And Darkness

And darkness is a great ally
when we have things to hide,
tear stains and emotions
or a rage seething in our blood…
On a cramped bed, it matters not
how much space we desire,
we must lie skin on skin
though far apart as two poles
waiting for the long night to end;
the dawn still hours away.
As the night and the day
are born from each others’ deathbed
while the years keep going by,
we relish the taste of rebirth…
And darkness is a great ally
when we have things to hide
like failures and betrayals, small
or a grand sorrow, diffused in the soul…

Billions of People (on Eid)

Billions of people around the world
have waited for the new moon,
both rich and poor alike,
some to beg while some to expend.

A month of extravagance and
a month of restrain too!

A month of peace and love
when thousands of Muslim would die
around the world,
in the name of Allah, the Merciful!

Billions of people around the world
are in the exodus
taken once in every year
from hell to their homes
leaving behind empty cities
that used to thrive with them.

As the mass of those trampling feet
is gone for a few days
the cityscape breathes a sigh
of relief from the weight.

The billions still alive would wait
for another new moon
to end the holy month
with a day full of festivals
for the rich to indulge
in yet some more of decadence
where the poor, still restrained,
would resort to begging again!

The Way to My Home

Seems like I have lost the way to my home,
don’t remember how I came to the place
where I am right now and can’t recall, why
I have even bothered to come at all!
Don’t know the faces that I see around
and the words they speak, I can’t comprehend
though they look and talk and move just like me!
The place seems like I have been here before,
years ago in another life may be
when the world was thin in crowds and we were
a whole lot less inclined to lust and greed
or was it in a long forgotten dream
for I can’t recall had I too back then
had lost the way to my home yet again!