The Howls of Silence

He waited there in the blistering cold,

As he saw life’s fragile textures unfold.

 Where the voices in his head grew louder and louder

Could it not be? He was without bother.

On this long, soulless journey he had to ask, “Was the right path taken?”

For many have forged their way to a path they had soon mistaken.

Was it their faith that drove them there?

Was it belief?

Or

Was it the something as profound, yet fallible and unruly as their animalistic urges to simply survive their grief?

A saint is not without darkness,

And a sinner not without hope.

Then why is it that we’re tempted to such a miscreant slope?

To believe in Good, we must believe in evil,

To know of Heaven, we hear of Hellish upheaval.

To walk a path that leads in hope of somewhere,

Only to end up trudging on a trail of our worst nightmare.

We know of man, who’s lithe and weak when alive,

but is stiff and cold when death thrives.

At times, moments seem like centuries

And years seem mere fragments of a second,

Too much for his taste he had finally reckoned.  

His bouncing finger is what told him he was alive,

For a few more seconds he only wanted to survive

He heard the roars “the war is over, we’re free”

And at that very moment he felt Knightly.

He did what any soldier would’ve done who was misguided,

And just as he came, he left un-abided.

Before darkness covered his guise

He whispered with his last sighs

Revelation 21:4 ~ “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor cries”. 

An Ode to Immortality ~ "Thou Art A Curse"

Oh how we humans wish to be immortal,

So we could roam through timeless portals

Why should not we die?

Why should not we dread death?

Why should we tell a lie?

Why should we long for an easy breath?

For the world is full of things unsettled

And the laws prove that man is mortaled.

Every man will live out his life,

Some in prison, some in exile and strife

The physician reduces each pulse with his scalpel knife.

So let us swear for just a while,

We put our faith in God, for there is no denial

We solemnly agree that we will love our freedom

‘The very gift of life’

Yet, we wait and ponder of over the day that we will be free.

Behold, the world has befriend the devil,

Oh and how these langur’s have perished to bring nations to level.

This world is an ‘inn’, discovered on the path of life’s travels,

So the ones He prepared, whether they be brave no matter what the perils,

Should thou take courage and open thy eyes

Only to see the bitterness of lies

And oh how the wonders have worked only to see, all those nations free.

With time itself winged, we watch the chariot smear its coldness

As the angel of death appears, standing there with much boldness.

Nevertheless, we the ‘hesitants’ of ‘it’ take no heed,

As we see the martyrs of our land who since then have buried their seed.

Muhawaraa Maa Bain Khuda-o-Insan (Dialogue between God and Man) By Allama Iqbal

Man To God:

Ae Khuda, shikwah-e-arbaab-e-wafa bhi sun lay

Khoogar-e-hamd say thoda saa gilaa bhi sun lay’

“O God, listen to this remonstrance from your faithful

Listen to the lament of those who forever praise you”

God starts first, remarking to man:

‘Jahan raaz yak aab-o-gil aafridum

Tu Iran-o-tataar-o-zang aafridi

Man az khaak polaad naab aafridum

Tu shamsheer-o-teer-o-tafang aafridi

Tabar aafridi nihal-e-chaman ra

Qafas sakhtee tair-e-naghma zan ra’

“I created this world from the same water and earth

You created Iran, Tartaria and Nubia

I forged from dust, iron’s pristine ore

You fashioned the sword, arrow and gun

To fell the garden tree, you made the axe

You fashioned the cage to imprison the singing bird”

Man replies:

‘Tu shab aafridi, chiragh aafridum

Safaal aafridi, ayaagh aafridum

Bayabaan-o-kohsaar-o-raagh aafridi

Khayabaan-o-gulzar-o-bagh aafridum

Man aanam kay az sang aaina saazum

Man aanam kay az zehr noshinaa sazum’

“You created night, I the lamp

You created clay, and I the cup

You-desert, mountain peak and valley

I-flower bed, park and orchard

It is I who grind a mirror out of stone

And brew elixir from poison”

The Day of My Death

Each morning when I open my eyes,

I would think to myself and say.

I, not events have the power to make me happy or unhappy today.

I can choose which it shall be, because I live my life with much sway.

Since yesterday is dead, and tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet.

I can truly say,

I lived a long time, here on this land

With its beauty and despair that go hand in hand.

I learned a lot, while I watched the hourglass tip its sand.

The highest wisdom that I shall own, freedom and life are earned by those alone.

I can laugh and say I still haven’t grown.

Even if it is a time to moan,

I can look towards the sky as the raindrops mix with the tears I cry.

Tears of joy I may imply.

As James Thurber once said,

“All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, to and why”

There were times when I did not pray

And I simply said, “I could not stay”.

Now God has brought me to his garden to play.

So, the end is near.

I take my final bow, and face my final curtain.

To my family and friends,

I’ll state my case of which I am certain.

I will only say this once, so listen up I’ll surely be clear.

I lived a life that was completely full; I’ve travelled each and every highway,

And more, much more than this,

I did it MY WAY…