درد

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The scorching pangs of farewell spread over the globe, giving birth to shapes new in the infinite azure

It is this sorrow of separation from the dawn wind that the stillness of dusk glances towards in profound silence

All night, from moon to star, becoming the lyrics among rustling leaves in rainy summer darkness of the jungles as art

It is the infusing pain that deepens into love and desire, into sufferings and joys in homes; this is that which melts and flows music through a poet’s heart

This was not born of matter, this was a love God molded with a bit more affection with his compassionate hands and metaphysical tears, from before the start

بشیر

بس کافی ہے

اپنے آنسو لے لو اور چلو

وہ اب کسی اور سے تعلق رکھتی ہے

It’s from الله