Waseem A Malla (Radbugh Srinagar(Jammu and Kashmir))
Moon And Me...!
And they praised the moon-
As the brightest in the night sky,
Surrounded by all those stars,
With all those glorifying its beauty.
In the midst of the dark heaven,
Having the stars- like a field:
Sown with the seeds of light,
And in their midst, The Moon-
The only blossomed flower.
They think of the moon- possessing
A reflection of divine beauty,
Within clouds- staining its face,
To feel jealous but to beautify it.
For some, it's not the moon's beauty,
But a fire, the fire of pride,
It burns, only itself, in it,
As no star can come closer,
For fear of losing its existence.
For me, the moon is like me,
Desolate, solitary and cold,
Deserted by the earth and the sun,
Separated from the tiny stars-
Its friends and its love;
And its heart turned rocky,
As my heart, when the emotions die.
© Waseem A Malla
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