How I Loathe Your Earnest Prayers

How I loathe your earnest prayers
And how I dread those are mine,
They might mean a world to you
To me they spell decline.
The moon will go, the stars will die,
The sun will show his might;
But what of the gloom you left,
That seeped through the night?

back to dystopia

Dystopia to Utopia and back to Dystopia. This is how it has been. Hahaha! What illusions we kindle in our hearts knowing all the way that they will never bear fruit. Maybe being in Utopia does give you a sense that you have conquered fate, that you design your future. Utopia gives security, may it be a false sense. We are so engulfed in the dream that we forget what the wise men have said through out the ages…and I quote;
"Agahi, daam e shunidan, jis qadar chaahe bichaaye,
Mudda, anqa hai, apni aalam e taqreer ka."
And so I bow to thee mighty Ghalib, may I be guided by your principles throughout life.
May I revel in the pain of hope, lost and found, just as you did. May I spend my life in the memory and search of my ‘incessant hope’. God give me strength and I ask nothing of you.

Gibran lives

This is like some verses of Gibran, quite catchy so I put it here:
Have mercy on me, my Soul.
You have shown me Beauty,
But then concealed her.
You and Beauty live in the light;
Ignorance and I are bound together in the dark.
Will e'er the light invade darkness?

My fav poem

This has been one of my most favorite poems of all times so I thought I’d put it here.
It is a poem by P B Shelly. Here goes:

I fear thy kisses gentle maiden;
Thou needest not fear mine;
My spirit is too deeply laden
Ever to burthen thine.

I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion
Thou needest not fear mine;
Innocent is the heart’s devotion
With which I worship thine.

Through the rye

Flying hair, robes asunder,
Beads of sweat on her lips;
Runs and runs through the fields of rye
With hopes eternal of eternal bliss.
On and on she goes endlessly
But doubts of sate linger on.
The gentle raven, blackest of all,
Caws to her from the highest stall.
“I view the fields wide and clear
And trust me for I see in rife,
I see no rye on the path you step
That serves you through the life!
O tender lass you look inside,
Those barren fields of yours are lush.
Someone stole into your heart
And stealthily planted ample rye.”

She never came

The eager azure skies look at the shrine,
The toils of a versifier to receive his anodyne.
The heavens shine, the saplings twine,
Anticipating a unity they sway.
The still waters glistening with all their might,
Offer him a world only dream would delight.
The rain washed lounge welcome the smitten
Dedicated servants to yearning and desire.
The winds of promise, so fragrant, so sweet,
Wonder if they sense the meet.
She told him that she’d come on wings
Of silver clouds and the breeze that sings.
He waits, waits for the moment he craves,
For the moment does the zeal he save.
Forlorn and weary it left him in pain,
He waited and waited, but she never came!

states of mind

this is something i wrote in school...so read likewise
I sat down to write some verse
About my life on a swinging curve.
But not a subject could I find,
To symbolize my life and my kind.
I tried to write about the darks
For the trouble and misery it marks.
I tried to write about the haunted
Like the evil in my life leaves me taunted.
I tried to write about the hope that shone
On my now shattered wall of stone.
I tried to write about the little hamlet
Where peace prevails, there’s no sign of sadness.
I tried to write about the small green hill,
Where the rainbow peeps;
Behind the wooden mill.
But then all my thoughts went drying
And left me alone with nothing but trying.