That soothing touch of the night cannot revive me.
Its silence, riding on the pleasant wind
or its dark shroud, hiding my sorrows for the rain
can no more imbue me with the light of creation.
What else is more unique to humankind alone?
How else can I justify my blessed breaths?
This hazy roller coaster ride, the one
we so lovingly plan ahead in time,
without knowing which way is the next turn –
up or down, how sharp to the left or right,
emboldens us to call those rare few without plans
as outcasts for not yielding to the perceived norms.
And lo, still I write, though since dawn I was
bleeding to death on the red plains of Mars,
with the dusk She rose like the rising sun,
halfway to Venus my spirit returned!
Is it not the way true love should feel like,
the more one lives, the less the other dies?
Dedicated to Kholood Azz,
the most beautiful human being I have met so far,
for rekindling my love in the humankind!
In the shadows a violin comes to life.
The sadness from her sustained agonies
seeps into the wilderness of my heart.
The flash of memories, both old and new,
at my door returns, like a long lost friend
and I wonder if I am dying at last!
I can feel the soft wailing of the strings
ravaging through my organs from inside,
annihilating me like Nirvana.
Then I knew, with a shudder and a heave,
from my wild cravings to be at your side
what being in the mood for love truly means!
I grow weary of my existing form,
what good has this human shape done so far!
Wish I could have been the gentle wind instead,
blowing inland from middle earth’s northern shore
and softly play with your cascading locks,
as you look up at the evening star!
Being a nimbus cloud too would have sufficed
and float towards my destiny, against
the rotation of the earth on its poles
to hold you with my shadows from the sky,
when the sun is too rude on your sacred face
and drown your sorrows in the joy of rain!
The wind once more smells of the distant sea,
as last night’s petrichor bemoaned a hazy dream.
In that dream I saw palaces succumb
to the inevitable beats of time’s ancient drums,
almost like a metaphor of my life,
churning white foam in the throes of a foolish strife!
For the rain I throw my windows ajar
and let the cascading drops trace my benumbed skin,
it never fails to make me remember
those monsoon days when I was alive with a dream!
Is that the wind’s groan I hear all around
or my heart’s refusal to accept destiny?
How much do I owe my life to that sound,
I must know for once and all to set myself free!
If the following poem makes you wonder about my religion,
you can find it in About Me.
The day was humid and sweltering hot.
Probably, far off south a depression
churned in wild rage against our sinful thoughts,
to purge the facts left out of confessions!
At night the fierce wind came down from the sky,
growling like a pard in chase of its prey
to cleanse the world from sins and me alike,
to make our sins flee in fear and dismay!
Once my world was swept clean, the rain arrived
and all other sounds were drowned in the drops
except when the lightning bolts forked the sky,
heralding aloud, it would rain nonstop,
until both the world and I would become as mild
and meek as the Lamb, who purged our sins with His life!
Through the wind an ocean whispered to me,
as heavy clouds of rain those whispers came
and spoke in touch to my wet and bare skin,
I smelled the distant whiff of brine in them.
From far south they arrived to my humble land,
an ancient spot of green, hidden amid
this dense forest of concrete, wood and sand,
with borders and laws, a true sovereign.
With their whispers spent, I refilled the clouds
with empty sighs and a longing to be
where the ocean is and turned them around,
asking them to come, the following year, to me.
But O, clouds only speak with what they have inside,
so they answered me with some long and empty sighs!