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On a dusty lane in Crowne Plaza
We happen to meet,
'Why do you turn them away'?
'Why do i lower them down'?
Had the windows thrown
An embrace to each other
The souls would have burned in solace...
In Ghalib Park, melancholic grace
The 'dew-drops(of sppech) '
Freeze and you pass by,
The evening passes
(Into the darkness of night)
And everyone passes,
Good lads and lasses,
Frozen; a statesque greif
Reciting, but where is the relief?
'God is great'
'God is great'
We touch the dust
With the openness of foreheads
The ants, come out of dust,
Bewildered, in the drizzles of rain
Return the eternal grief
'Read, recite or proclaim'
And the prayers of relief.
Think you why my heart
Fails to beat a symphony
Think you who's the perpetual theif
Read and recite
the secret of my grief
Mubeena is raped,
Listen to her unheard screams
Mingling with the melodramatic
Eternal themes, No gleams
In the murky streams
Of robbed honour, of life.
Mughli adorns her greif
With the jewels of patience
Death laments the pangs of disappeanece
The hope, the fear of recurrence,
And the dusty whirlpool of existence.
The school-boy's blood
Daubs the meadows deep-red
The snowflake, lost,
floating comes down
And weeps an elegy
Into the snow dust.....
The wind begins to blow
The snow weeps blood
And we happen to meet
In the dusty lane of Crowne Plaza.
Why to turn them away! ! !
Why to lower them down! !
Pehaps
''Life is a series of loose meaningless
Unconnected events.''
feroz rather
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