Writer's own thoughts!

 Deny the body,  Then you open the mind,  Deny the mind,  Your body become a trashcan and Soul a Dustbin!  Trash you become!  Grimmy-though shiny from outwards, It is always the inward!  Inward-that matters!  Inward-that matters!  Look inwards!  Can you see thoroughly?! Can you see love and devotion there?!  Or, only, hatred, doubt and spite?  Your inward shows what your doing outwardly!  Like an antique interior is your body,mind and soul!  Search your soul through your body,  Cause it resides there: somewhere between the thin  line of sacredness and profanity!  Somewhere between: Good and evil!  Somewhere between: Right and Wrong!  What do we call it?! The conscience?!   Your body is the gateway to the soul!  Restrict it with barriers: with protectors!  Make it an electric gate, a high security gate, That none can enter!  If urgent in any emergency then will need pas...

 Practice what you belief,  But do not always belief what you practice,  Cause practices may change over time,through time and against time We do stand sometimes!  Prayer is a practice, practice prayer for it  Calms down the spirit-excludes the unholy!  Prayer is a practice of cleansing and tightening beliefs,  Prayer is your armor against deception, Devotion is what you need to practice!   And patience is you need to prolong devotion!  Practice what you belief but belief what is righteous, cause human being is deceptive,  And being human is not so easy!  It is a constant battle between flesh and spirit, Cause flesh urges for worldly comfort and bodily needs, and spirit! Oh! It is the master!  Spirit wants peace and harmony and alignment and connection through the unity of body,mind and soul: reprisal and reconnect through renaissances!  Indeed a new era starts when you practice prayer and believe in spirituality!...

 Hate me more, but, I would rather endure your hatred than get pitied on!  Fear me more, cause I will rather choke in your sense of intimidation than die in your pretentious love sugercoated with the veils of envious odour! ©® Farheen  lines from my poem that I wrote back in 2022!

  Tales to tell?! The darker the shade, the merrier she became! The more upset she gets, the more glory she unveils! A by-born phoenix raised by her fighter dad! The rhetoric is you are tired of independence, yet you glorify it!  ©® 

You know Adam, people say they are scared of the new, but, I fear of the new withering away! I am scared that eventually I will get bored of everything new I have ever craved. What made my blood dance in the veins now runs stale when the unfamiliar begins to get too familiar.  You know what else I am scared of? When the new city has no charm,  The streets once I memorized by learning each routes in the google maps no longer excites me. When the morning doesn’t hold the calm anymore and I rush to catch the next bus on stoppage. I am scared of people becoming too familiar.  Because unfamiliar people still have possibilities, they haven’t disappointed you.  They haven't shown their true colors yet, They are not yet predictable and you still don't know what wound they are going to inflict on you in what ways. You don't know any of it at all! That's why every new person, new place, new dreams are beautiful....  Because, you haven’t tasted betrayal yet! A new city doe...

Those who find comfort in fancy food and attire are perhaps the happiest-  A warm plate of rice with two or three side dishes, And a table full of closest people having a shared meal together.  Those who find comfort in a luxurious house are still happy, A house filled with white artifacts, marble like tiles so glossy- neat and intact, Gardens full of quiet serenity, And, marvellous decor screaming elegance. A dim light is still burning in the hallway to keep the house awake- As if it is waiting for somebody to enter. Perhaps, happiness is still this simple-   To own house, cars and people. Perhaps, happiness is this ordinary to belong and exhibit ownership. We feel happy to show others what we have- perhaps, that's the life trajectory of most people. But, some of us cannot simply lead an ordinary life. We tend to seek meaning in every ordinary thing. We eat a spoonful of rice and begin thinking about hunger, How hungry might be the people out there? We enter a room ...

 You want to leave home early, pal... But, do you know, once you leave home,  You can never enter as a homebody there twice. You'll just attend. Attend your home on vacations, on occassions but never to stay. And, do you even realize, how many homes you will have to create away from home? You will now fall into a mission of building a home - to carry a part of yourself everywhere you go, It will be an oddly strenuous lifelong process.  You will crave home inside a home you live in. You will build a home in distant lands full of strangers. By then, you will  learn to trust them. You will get to know that you were all alone from the very beginning. Everyone saw your rise and fall and then ascension, and now you recognize the pattern. Gradually, you are waiting for another fall in seasons. Perhaps, not all seasons bring hopes of spring, Perhaps, that's the diversity of nature. Like seasons, our mood changes quickly from autumn to summer, Summer to monsoon and spring to ...

 Ambition killed both of us. You were too ambitious to bind me, I was too ambitious to leave you. The "Different staged people can never match their life phases." The place where I am coming from- you have seen it already, And, what I want to experience is unnecessary to you now. The different phases in life take people to walk different roads at a time, The road that I have undertaken is different than yours. And, the road you are on- I could not understand it back then. The binding thread was weak. Differences in experiences can lead to devastating formations. We were made of glass, and we were meant to break. The differences subdue the attraction. Other than necessities, people wouldn't bond anyway. What necessity could bring two different people together? Obviously, materialistic needs! But, for soul-ties, one needs to uncover one's soul first, Understand the inner person hidden beneath the exterior, And,  differences in perspectives and lack of depth can strip yo...

Yes, I know how it goes around. I had been there before. The stages we go through are always different from those of people at different stages of life. I know how it goes, Hey, you are a kiddo.... You don't know anything, Let me show you around. You think you are exploring the world and the perpetrator is exploring you. To take a stab at you, to learn exactly when to attack you at your lowest. I know I have been there too. I know people at different stages of life will try to comfort you, Understand your struggling point of view, But, what they can't do is replace their feeling of 'looking down' on you. So, what do you do? Rationally, you don't indulge yourself  in the comfort of a "different staged person." The differences speak volumes to you at the earliest. You have seen this kind before. It's only you for you, You can only take yourself to heights that they thought you could never reach, You can take yourself to places where they thought you woul...

What seems exotic doesn’t mean it will always suit you, Some berries look delicious from a distance,  But, not all of them tastes good.  You might not like the flavor of a berry though it's appearance is appealing to you.  Some flowers may look beautiful from distance until they are decorated in the vase and loses their glow.  You may find the unfamiliar attractive,  But, you may never know what effects it can bring when you get closer to it.  You may fall in love with the accent of a foreign river never knowing whether you can float into it,  You don't know if you can reach to the shore swimming in it.  Probably, one day you are going to realize that's the real danger,  We mistake unfamiliarity for destination, Fill the distance with imagination,  And, fathom difference as destiny, We struggle in the endless mutiny of trying to uncover the unknown, As if knowing everything would solve our all problems.  But, the real problem begins...

 If I look into the past I get bitter,  If I look into present I become steadfast,  And, if I look forward to future I become hopeful. The past has shown me how to be resilient.  The future holds possibilities,  If I use my potentials,  The present speaks of the credentials  that I have earned from the labor I have done-  in the backdrop when nobody sees, I rise early when everyone is asleep,  And, I have been awake from ever since. Everybody sees the champion rebuilding,  Nobody sees the silent sacrifices they give.  I have sacrificed myself to sacred time,  Only to find vast time ahead after finishing all jobs, I have nothing. I have been in a continuous loop of work, Hustling into one thing to another without a break, And, when everything gets quiet,  I realize I have none and nothing to do anymore.  I am whole and alone at the same time.  I have sacrificed and sacrament myself,  Cremated myself into the ...

  Again I sit alone with myself,  Me and my shadows beneath the dim light- face to face,  The terror of being alone begins again.  But, when was the last time I wasn’t?!  These empty rooms speak volume of that!  Perhaps, I took association too seriously too close to my heart,  But, the hearts of people- they are always closed as if enclosed envelops they hand over until the messages are delivered- the letters read over.  But, individuals always take companionship for convenience, but never for permanence. Is it too hard to find your tribe?! Is it too hard to belong?! To belong to a person?! To a commune?! The empty chair is still speaking volume.  I sit here under the dim light, Me alone with my unreconciled shadows.  I refute them to reckon the unravelled....!  My shadows speak loudly, All these crowds and people in shrouds imitating kindness.... But, at the end of the day they are full of themselves thinking only about themselves....

 I am manifesting a sweet guy who'll understand how much it took from me to walk the high roads of Texas , how exhausted my body is from walking miles and how much heat I have absorbed from the Texas Sun above my head. I want someone to walk beside me  on the bridges of the new cities- hand in hand, side by side along the trails and watch the sunsets while sipping our starbucks coffee. I want to swim in the Miami beach, see the Florida lakes, wake up in the Colorado red brick sunrays on a Saturday morning, And, wake up to the sweet dreams in the arms of a sweetheart who can be with me in all trials and trails. I want someone to notice me behind my smile and fathom how tired I am after all the battles I have fought alone, and listen to me when I am vulnerable, as if he can see my soul piercing through his loving eyes. I don't want the gaze of a wanderer anymore, I want someone deep who can heal with his words, calm demeanor, quiet understanding and win a globe within me. I want...

My father had a dream,  Not the grandeur one but a dream stitched with humility, audacity and simplicity.  My father was courageous,  He wanted to build a state with his family and kids.  Not the ones that would glitter from the chandeliers but from stars,  From constellations above! He chased the unreal for a long period and made every impossible into a possibility, into a potentiality with chivalry.  His dreams smelled of novelty. Of concrete cement that gathered beneath his fragile fingernails.  My father's breath smelled like paint, dust and cloves.  Because, once he was an young boy with empty pockets, sleeping in the unknown shades, looking for living in the foreign lands,  Those alienated soils gave him identity,  A reason to work harder to build his generation's pathway, their gripping identities.  The social destiny that he curved for us was nothing less magical.  Unbelievable was his journey-  Starting from a hum...

The sadness in my eyes has numbed the empathy towards the pain of the collective.  I no longer read the unspoken words of the kid lying beside the highway beneath the foot over bridge, I don't translate the language of hunger and try to reach them.  I have become numb. I don't understand the silence of homeless people who are always looking for a meaning in their rootless lives,  I don't recall their cries for help.  Who are counting stars with an empty stare.  I no longer feel deep for them.  I think my grief and loneliness has made me shallow.  I have grown into a stoic carefree person.  But, did I ever want to be like this?! A stern mountain with a calm demeanour?!  My heart has become an alter of only one echo. I remember the day when my heart was broken.  When it was pierced fiercely with no swords but shields....What was meant to protect attacked me. A shield if wielded to wrong hands can rip apart. It frightens me- this digression...

 Now you know,  The permanent damage that you've done. They call it survival,  But, I named it silence.  A disease called- incapable of love.  No physician can give prescription on it, No laboratory can discover the reason beneath it. The diagnosis report arrives late after the predator leaves the marks,  Only after the heart forgets the weather of warmth.  Not because love doesn’t knock on the door,  But, because the door is permanently locked.  All callings go in vain,  Doorbell keeps ringing, but no one answers.  Until the hands of lover bleeds.  But, is there anyone who is ready to wait and bleed?!  The symptoms are quite subtle: Eyes that avoids affection and mistakes softness as danger,  Hands that retract from gentleness as if infatuation is a burning fire. Pulses intensifies only at the footsteps of departure.  Then?! A quiet grief spirals back from head to toe,  A relief follows.  I dodged a bu...