were young
You wrote to your family in the hour of rush
You fought when your eyes couldn’t see properly
With everyone around you pointing fingers at you
You ended every pain around you
When you yourself were in pain
You smiled behind the bars of your defense
In the battle field on the day of your birthday
You saw your closest pass by you in front of your eyes
When you couldn’t reach them
You recognized everyone and everything
But they say that you couldn’t be recognized
And still, after you were gone
Your only loved ones searched for you
And you being not found
They buried your memories into their hearts
And these memories of such a young soldier
Are and never will be forgotten.
The Magic Machine
Before the beginning of every beginning,
Out of chaotic pieces of clay,
An orderly lump was created, the Wanderer, for ages to come,
Into which a clot of blood was poured,
A soul was breathed in,
A beating chamber put into it.
And finally to uplift the veil of this Reality,
It was then bestowed with the gift of Consciousness,
Resting in a fathomable pit, the Mind.
To seize the immense truth of his mortality,
It was given the ultimate power of Thought,
Thought astray has he long gone from his destined path.
Like a large cauldron, dark and deep
Is the fathomableness of his Mind.
To life it comes when the power of Thought
Works its way across what may appear as unfeasible,
Thus this power shunning its light there, making it promising;
Just in the likeness of some magical potion,
That leaves its effect on every dull and dark reality.
Like the true nature of magic mistaken,
By what appears visible only to the eye,
So is the true power of the Wanderer’s magic, the Mind
Mistaken for nothing but a mere conception of immortality.
Thought its seeds do grow, reap fruits and then erode away
By the cruel hands of Time, which crushes yet everything.
Like magical potions jingling in the dark and deep cauldron,
The Thoughts jungle in their fathomable cauldron, the Mind.
Like the potions assemble together, becoming the soul of spells,
The power of Thought assembles itself, becoming the soul of intelligence.
And just as the magician’s wand always at work on its spells,
So is the Wanderer’s Magic Machine, the Mind,
Always at work on its Thoughts.
The Sons Of Fate
It the hour of Creation, with the molten form of Reality taking shape,
Seeing Chance of fulfilling its emptiness, Reason was born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To suck the dry, soothing Breath blown into it.
For the hollow, silent crevasses inside it
To take the Beat the still echoes in its chambers
And sowing a seed of the power
That would morph into a living miracle.
It was Chance of dreaming and hoping that Reason was born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To fall into the cradled hands of Nature.
To roam freely in its vivid, lush green palaces and kingdoms.
To drink from its showers of endless, salty skies
And to dive into its warm, soothing tears
Thus gaining the eternal glow of Comfort.
It was Chance of survival that Reason was born
For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay
To shelter it’s troubled existence in the depths of Dawn
For dullness in it to drink from the life pouring from above.
To warm its death shivers by the embers of fire flaming around it.
To morph in itself the cravings of Nature’s soul.
To silence thunders of wilderness by caressing them
And to search lost pats in the streaks of the morning’s rays.
It was Chance of discovery that Reason was born
For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay
To sow the evergreen seed of Knowledge in the barren land.
To plough deeper into the core of Nature’s resilient laws.
To soften the damp around it’s bitterest of realities.
To learn to ride with the fast running wheels of Time.
To look for the tiniest speck of light in the vacuum of Ignorance
And to give that light to the evergreen seed to grow.
And it was Chance of selectiveness that Reason was born
For the empty grain of sand and thirst dropp of clay
To form titles of sympathy and cruelty; violence and tranquility.
To build domes marking lost, confused reminders of their history.
To conquer vast grounds and endless seas to nourish its restlessness.
To fall under covers of a thousand colours and creeds.
To make beliefs and rites to keep itself from going astray
And to lay tracks of progress in moments flying by.
____________
It is Chance of destruction that Reason is born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To erect redundancies that salute the skies
To mold giant monsters of smoke and dust
That camouflage pieces of gold spread by Nature.
To shed light of Violence, closing eyes that never opened.
To emanate resilient glows that melt the diamonds settled on lands
And to unleash powers of Torture, killing Freedom in its cradle.
It is Chance of empowerment that Reason is born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To spread tokens of Deceit under blindfolds of Innocence on its eyes.
To manipulate the living miracle by hiding it from its own anilities.
To make a slave of the free soul in all its doubts and distress.
To convince itself to believe in what never saw the light of Truth.
To break the break threads of Faith by daggers of Corruption
And to set on flight the power sheathing it from demons of Violence.
It is Chance of control that Reason is born
To reach the deepest realms of the Divine Kingdom residing within
And shattering it to a ruined castle built on lost pillars of Time.
To trap the senses in the light of their own perception.
To camouflage its reality by Treachery and Deceit.
To violate Innocence and Simplicity by false images of Terror and Misery
And to change the laws engraved on hands of Nature for its own cause.
It is Chance of superiority that Reason is born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To turn its back against the poor, needy and sick.
To snatch away the comfort of a home from the weak and oppressed.
To play games of Injustice with the Fate of those who are ignorant of its rules.
To throw heaps of insult and torture on the defenseless.
To let the bereaved rot away from pangs of Hunger and clench of Thirst
And to erase from Existence those who lift curtains from the bitter ugly truth.
And it is Chance of concealment that Reason is born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To deprive the senses from their beliefs and motives by terror-stricken thoughts.
To blow off the tiny specks of Reality dan
cing in shades of Ignorance.
To shun all resilient evidence of that which existed before
The Light spread, brightening every lost, drenched path.
To replace the motives forever firm by plastic ideas
And to lay down foundations of false accusations
On the swords fighting in the shade of Truth.
_____________
It will be Chance of gaining that Reason will be born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To unleash its minions in realms only known to the moon and stars.
To claim the very remnants of existence beyond its imagination.
To change the perception of Truth just to get most out of birth of lies.
To risk all its hopes and dreams for the sake of conquering more.
To search for treasures in the embers of a fire burning deep within
And to proclaim the death of those whose lives it controlled.
It will be Chance of imprisonment that Reason will be born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To black away tranquil memories by curtains of Gloom.
To alter the courses of Reality by its made-up perspectives.
To mock the living miracle out of its very cognition.
To litter the light within by lingering shadows of Enmity
And to camouflage all that exists beneath covers of Deception.
It will be Chance of conspiring that Reason will be born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To break the forces binding the lost and dejected.
To make the immortal thoughts fear and question their sanity.
To blindfoldedly turn the strongest of beliefs into mere shards of Uncertainty.
To break into the very core of the seed planted deep within
And to cling wit the beads of Time just to shatter them.
And it will be Chance of Ignorance that Reason will be born
For the empty grain of sand and thirsty dropp of clay
To walk on paths upon which blood of the innocent dried.
To howl away in shrieks of laughter when others kill for it.
To live on beauteous sheets of fortune while others rot away without a roof.
To sit on thrones and curse its luck while others try to form one.
To satisfy their hunger while Misery takes hold of the rest
And to live on a good beating heart while others die finding one.
The Time Of Times
Some things can’t be changed
While some stay the same
Some can be gained
While some aren’t meant to be
Some can step on the battlefield
While some can’t control their fear
Some doors are always open
While some aren’t even there at all
Some are very special to weap upon
While some are forgotten by the time
Some decisions can’t be decided
While some are thrust upon us
Some possibilities can be possible enough
While some can’t be the ones
Some are so dearer to us
That we wish to always
Stay in their shadows
While some are our bitterest enemies
Some thoughts mingle in our minds
While some turn into questions
Some risks are useful to take
While some might take away our relief
Some confusions can be solved
While some ought to be un-tied
Some words are left un-spoken
While some wonder in the open air
And likewise, some times also ought
To be remembered while
Some ought to be forgotten.
Time Is A Treasure
Smile till you want to
Cry till u want to
Breathe till you want to
Live till you want to
Every moment in your
Life is valuable
Time is a treasure.
Take all that you need
Fell all that you can feel
Try hard till you can
To be a successful man
Every hard work counts
Time is a treasure.
Run fast till you are tired
Be strong while you are weak
Stay calm but not in anger
To figure out all your troubles
Your patience is your limit
Time is a treasure.
Hold all your life in
Your hands to change
The mistakes that you’ve made
Take you to a higher rank
Your patience is your only source
To fight for everything
Time is a treasure.
Time is the only thing
That our life depends upon
If it’s gone once
It won’t ever come back
Time is a valuable treasure
That won’t ever be found
Again if lost once.
Un-Defined
We live so lively,
Yet unaware of reality.
We dream so consciously,
Yet unable to trace it’s path.
We imagine so artistically,
Yet unable to draw
Those images upon our lives.
We think so thoughtfully,
Yet unable to turn those
Thoughts neither in words, nor in actions.
We decide so autonomously,
Yet those decisions end up going nowhere.
We feel so deeply inside the corner of stress,
Yet those feelings break away so soon,
Shattered to pieces in our heart
Like smooth, shinny glass.
We want so ardently,
Yet unaware of the price it may cost us.
We concentrate with our mind’s windows open,
Yet forget all that needed
To stay in the blind corners of our reminiscence.
We fear so horridly,
Yet unable to define it.
We control so independently,
Yet unable to control our own insanities.
We act so humanely,
Yet unable to act before the undo.
We speak so resolutely,
Yet those words are nothing
But mere words in front of the screams.
We search so intrepidly,
Yet unaware of the murky shadows,
That lurk behind the twilight doors.
We answer so determinedly,
Yet form into a bundle of questions ourselves.
When it comes to the chapters of misunderstanding.
We weep so sympathetically,
Yet unaware if those tears
Really are from the unfathomable pits of our hearts.
We laugh so gleefully,
Yet unaware of the faces
That are forever bound to beam.
We pledge so trustworthily,
Yet those promises are nothing more
Than words, forgotten sooner that the dark to approach.
We hold the chain of love so compactly,
Yet unaware of the aspects clinging to the beads
That may break apart from our own grip.
We hear so assiduously.
Yet fail to recognize the clandestine
Of our own lives being read out aloud.
We see so immaculately,
Yet unable to see the darkness
Glooming around us everywhere.
We forgive so mercifully,
Yet that forgiveness is never
From the center of promises.
We restore the damages so flawlessly,
Yet unable to restore the damages
Of our own bruised lives.
We accept so wi
llingly,
Yet refuse everything at the end
Of the dark delusion in our minds.
We succeed so exceedingly,
Yet fail when life give us a test
To enter the world henceforth.
We run so promptly for achieving
Yet unable to catch even a foretaste of it all.
We recognize so indubitably,
Ye unable to recognize the images
Laid before us of our reflections
On shattered glass.
We follow what is taught so accordingly,
Yet unable to find the ways once doubt swathes us.
We reason so unhesitatingly,
Yet questions our own reason sometimes.
We wonder so aimlessly around harsh corners of this gloominess,
Yet unaware of the phantoms that creep inside us from there.
We wait so hastily chances and opportunities,
Yet fail so miserably upon following the way they went.
We hail our thoughts and ideas into this world,
Yet never give them shelter in the deepest corners of our minds.
We admit to walk with life at every step,
Yet take a turn leading to isolation rather than life.
We catch every star life throws upon us,
Yet unable to settle them upon ourselves.
And yet, when death arrive sat our door
We want for it all over again
But in vain.
Un-Finished Dreams
It was the night which summoned our lives
It were the stars which led us to heaven
It was the light, which we followed
It was the sound of the wind, which cherished us
It was the laughter of the morning, which woke us up.
It were the seconds which kept us going
It was the cry of a loner, which made us merciful
It was the deep ocean we sank into with our sorrows
It was the existence of God which made our believes.
It was the simplicity of life, which made us live
It were the memories which pushed us forward
It was the faith, which made us try
It was the talking which made us realize
It was the reality, which made us different from ourselves
And so, we couldn’t let go of these ties
Held on to them as we could
Ado so, it was these ties which our lives were built from.
Un-Fold
Gave life to none
To search in the deep oceans
Living upon the only wants
But not on the needs
Failing to hold back time
The roads lead us nowhere
Stumbling on broken glasses
The shelter take away
And falling down undone
What was left behind
May never be the same again
Whispering between the only thoughts
Uncomfortably slow the life passes
The silent sigh calls us back
Into the fog of the dry season
High on the slow moving skies
The stars are torn apart
Between the rusty clouds
Soaked in the mid winter
Until the glowing spring
Washes those tears away
Paintings on the empty blooms
Memories carved on stones
Picking up the last of the wishes
Spending some time to
Take the breaks
And leave the stories, unfold.
Went Away
Standing in the door
With a strangers look
On it’s face, with
Dark and deep eyes
Deep as an ocean
Like an endless sky.
Standing there, waving at me
When everything around
Is motionless
And though trying to say
What may never be
Said again.
And it said: ’ I’m the glass through’
‘Which you can’t see your tomorrow
‘I’m the twist you can’t turn’
‘And the finger you can’t’
‘Hold on to’
‘Or count on.’
‘I’m the one you can’t see’
‘But know that is there’
‘And the one you know’
‘Belongs to you’
‘The one you still waste’
‘Knowing that it won’t return.’
‘You can’t catch me’
‘But once you do’
‘You wouldn’t have to live’
‘Upon misery like others.’
And that was time
Standing in the door
Just reminding me
To not to waste it
And that time went away
Just like a blow of wind
With a blink of an eye
And it never came back.
Words Of A Free Wonderer
There is the deep ocean
Where one could plunge into
There are the words of glory
Which one could speak
Within the hearts
There is the success
Which one could aim
Without any boundaries
There is the love
Which one could obtain
By random acts of kindness
There is the garden
Where one could wonder
Without any worries
There is the comfort
Where one could rest forever
There is the road
Which one could with believe
That it may lead him to the right way
There are the memories
Which one could remember
In the time of sorrow
There are the chances
Which one could take to move on
And yet, there’s still so much
In life to explore, within itself.