
Reflections!
What’s really important in life,
Is what I think of ‘me’,
And whether I am able to become,
Own best version of what I can be.
What’s really important in life,
Is what I think of ‘me’,
And whether I am able to become,
Own best version of what I can be.
She entered her room and touched her head,
Then sat next to her old wrinkled bed.
She held her hand and pressed it tight,
And wished she had the courage to fight.
They sat together, quiet and gloomy,
The little angel and her dying mommy.
Walking on bridges from ignorance to innocence.
Enduring pain, sorrows, heartbreaks on the way.
We record all experiences, feelings, reactions,
and one day all that is accumulated shred away.
Rising in the space,
mirroring the formless,
our life on earth is a mandatory illusion,
for evolution of consciousness.
The eternal self, dance around the tune of a divine symphony.
A song from beyond, a song with no guilt or infamy.
The author, the verse, the audience, are all composed by the Hand of One.
Where love holds all the songs, where the truth is our freedom!
Every day is filled with the absence;
Of the verses, I cry at night,
I ponder what would happen;
If I bring them out into the light.
एक शाख़ पे आके बैठ गया,
कोई, दूर का मुसाफ़िर लगता है;
जाने किस शहर से आया है,
जाने किस शहर को जाएगा।
मुझको तो वो कोई,
जाना पहचाना सा लगता है,
जैसा उससे रिश्ता कोई,
अनजाना सा लगता है।
In you,
I am born again,
New and free,
Away from pain
Fears and tears.
I cruise my boat,
In the sea of hope
Towards your soothing shores.
The quiet self,
Trembles in the chain of events,
Going through dim tunnels of memories,
Carved beneath the skin,
To discover the lost faith.
You feel that your hands shiver,
Your heart beats like a drum;
Despite the fact that you can scarcely walk,
You battle the inclination to run.
You could never understand,
The constant agony I feel;
Since in the light of day,
It doesn’t look genuine.
My life was seen through lenses,
of the ignorance I worn with pride;
I thought it held my stories,
That I’d forever keep inside.
I would incarnate the eternity;
Inside the dreams after wakening,
As the pieces left in the trance;
Will not last long for cradling
The world said there is no splendour in me,
I am a glim, devoid of my flash;
So, I set my soul on the sacred fire,
To rise like a phoenix from the ash.
The time has a voice,
That the realm we exist uses;
It’s not divided into hours, minutes and seconds,
It’s also made of wounds and bruises.
I carved my greed into the sphere,
Of roving drift to keep my world afloat;
But against the flood of thy wisdom,
They were the sodden paper boats.
Our life is a melody
Of the ones that appeared long,
Singing to the tunes it sees
To create something beyond.
Dad I heard that war kills
So, I want to kill this war
I want you to tell me how.
She got up early in the morning and made her morning tea
She sat sipping it slowly in the verandah green.
The tea was warm and sweet just as she wanted
But she drank it down as if it was totally tasteless.
That thin and slender blade of grass
Peeping between two mighty rocks
Standing tall making space for itself
It teased and mocked at her
I am not my diamond solitaire,
I am not the precious jewels I wear.
I am not the silk gown I wear,
I am not the brands that adorn me!
She sat nodding and smiling,
Trying to be happy, busy following.
Successfully deceiving herself and everyone,
The perfect sycophant that she had become.
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© Dr. Farah Naqvi (2020). All Rights Reserved.