A fire awakens,
Igniting each cell,
With a longing to transcend,
To imprint upon the world,
A mark so deep,
That even after the curtain falls,
Echoes of existence linger,
Resonating through the cosmos.

Yet amidst this shadowed landscape,
In the depths of my mind,
I feel the ancient echoes,
The murmurs of ancestral roots,
A tether to purpose that only i know.

Kshitiz Sikriwal

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In the closeness of kinship, doth a quiet yearning taketh root,
Anon, we doth harbor high hopes and expectations,
Yet oft, these hopes be dashed 'pon the rocks of reality,
Leaving us adrift in the sea of longing.

The more we invest of ourselves, the greater our desires,
Yet alas, oft we find our desires unmet,
As if the bonds that bind us doth fray with time,
Leaving us bereft and forlorn.

With each new tie, we doth surrender a piece of our soul,
Only to find ourselves hungering for more,
As though our connections doth diminish,
Leaving us feeling diminutive and lost.

Seek we solace in the warmth of companionship,
Yet find ourselves oft cast into the chill of solitude,
Where our pleas go unheard, our needs unmet,
Leaving us solitary amidst the throng.

In the throes of attachment, we find ourselves alive,
Yet ever mindful of the specter of loss,
For in the depths of affection lie the seeds of sorrow,
Leaving us to navigate this labyrinth of emotion alone.

-

Surrendering to the hill within

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Forever Wale Promise

-

अब हवाएँ ही करेंगी रौशनी का फ़ैसला,
जिस दिए में जान होगी वो दिया रह जाएगा।

दरिया है इश्क़ का, गहराईयों में बसे हैं हम,
जब तक बुझ न जाए प्यार का जला रह जाएगा।

हर बारिश में लगता है जैसे रोज़ाना इक सफ़र है,
यादों का सिलसिला, लम्हा-लम्हा चल रह जाएगा।

मोहब्बत की राहों में, कितने ही रास्ते हैं खोजने,
पर दिल का कौनसा मंज़िल पा रह जाएगा।

कभी धड़कनों में छुपा देते हैं अपना ग़म,
आँसू बादलों में भीगते हैं, फिर भी छूट नहीं जाएगा।

अब हवाएँ ही करेंगी रौशनी का फ़ैसला,
जिस दिए में जान होगी वो दिया रह जाएगा।

-

In the twilight's tender glow,
Where dreams and stardust intertwine,
A moonbeam whispered secrets low,
To the ancient oak, its roots entwined.

The leaves, like parchment, held their tales,
Of forgotten lovers and moonlit dances,
Their veins etched with moon's silver trails,
In whispered echoes of lost romances.

Beneath the boughs, a fairy's flight,
Her wings adorned with dew-kissed light,
She danced upon the emerald moss,
Her laughter echoing through the night.

And as the stars blinked their sleepy eyes,
The night surrendered to dawn's embrace,
The oak stood sentinel, wise and old,
Guarding secrets woven in time and space.

-jackofpoets

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Now you are the wife of a poet

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Walking briskly on the Mattan wudar,
Your head-dress, oh, how ironically it sways!
Your curls, like pearls in pairs, deserve to adorn.
Come, my love, idle strolls, let's not partake.

Rooms with walls adorned, I shall provide,
And to the Almighty, my state I'll confide.
In the cradle of my heart, I'll keep you safe and sound,
Come, my love, idle strolls, let's not abound.

She has known you by your shadow's trace,
Elegant as the Snobar, your grace we embrace.
Luck favors those whom God's grace does surround,
Come, my love, idle strolls, let's not be found.

(*Mattan wudar: A pathway in Kashmir.
Snobar: Kashmiri term for snow-covered peaks)

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Letter before suicide

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