I meditate near the silent lake,
Hoping a breeze may shiver it.
I don't know if I think about everything,
Or if everything is forgetting me.

The lake tells me nothing,
The breeze barely stirs it.
I don't know if I am happy,
Or if I even desire to be.

A cheerful crane creates ripples of waves,
Along the edge of the sleeping water.
Why did I make dreams
My only life?

-

I know I'll find myself again
in all the things I Love:
the Smell of Rain,
the melody of songs,
Love for Books & Poetry,
a Lonely walk on the Shores of Wullar Lake,
Golden hues of Sunset & sunrise,
staring at the Moon forever,
Sky filled with misty Clouds,
being lost isn't a destination
It's a journey of finding yourself...

-

Lost I am
Broken shattered
Millions of pieces
Sprinkle to the earth
From whence I came
To where I am
Just one man
Bound in life
Devoted to death
It's not a choice
It's only one life
Returned to the earth
To start rebirth

-

Father

Oh Dad!
How come the journey is so fast ?
I wish you are here
All thought has become memories
I want to share the experience with you
How life is challenging.

Oh Dad!!
My heart fervent to see you
Only what I see in you
I learnt to be strong
Also to be bold
Even in the midst of foes
When facing hell on Earth;
Now I'm able to say I've
lost the world.

Oh Dad!!!
I hate death; I love you

-

On the day of judgement
I will just hold flag of Kashmir,
so that God will know that
I have gone through hell before.

-

O time!

All past is silently contained in you.
But you move ever towards future,
O time! Turn your vehicle for a while.
And begin the journey to the lands
That you have left into the past's hands.
O Time! let me feel the past
That they say is eternally lost.
But you r mighty enough to show it.
Irrespective of if or not be know it.
And show be the brightest band of your spectrum.
Those days of happy childhood,
whose passage with you
Was something unknown.

-

FIRST LOVE
/CAPTIONED/— % &

-

Writing After A Long Time
/CAPTIONED/— % &

-

Alternate ending...

Am I dying to live
Or living to die
What more can I give
Am I living a lie
So many thoughts
So many questions
No answers to give
Still I'm willing to try
So till my curtain call
I know
I'm still dying to live
As I'm living to die.
— % &

-

The pen of a poet,
Borrows the truth from the birds,
Easing the trust of cage,
The pen of a poet Is set to hold the truth.

The pen of a poet,
Is in search of the wondering pain,
To breakthrough the blank notions,
Embracing the loneliness of the pain,
The pen of a poet is molded to shed tears of pain...— % &

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