He Sang To Me Oftentimes! Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

He is present in my heart
And totally absent in reality
Some demons he chased
some chased him
Upon his heart, he tried several tricks
He used to wear a philosophic guise
Seemed as if he was haunted by misty things
They say he was so young
But to me he appeared a grown, mature
Silent. Sober. Wise. Smart. Childish.
He was all at once
He wrote me; read me
And read to me carefully
I rewrote him in return
Ah, at times He was so bitter
Alas, he was so painfully unhomed
Dwelling here and there he couldn't rest
A kind of wait was visible in his existence
He was a distant fellow
He himself was a distance
He was afraid of himself;
He told me once
He didn't meet himself for months
Ah, but he possessed an activist head
His head journeyed on the path of his heart
He had a shy way;
Shyness, they say, best defined him
Boldly he outbursted himself in writeups
There also came days when he went empty
Decades passed by; futility hanged over him
He found no word to write
I delved into his depth
He himself was a mysterious word
He was departed from the homely dictionary
Completely incomplete was his expression
Tears, trauma, terror and temptation
He was in love with the heart of agony
His eyes always overwhelmed me
Subtle echoes occupied me when hearing him
I couldn't listen to his exactness
He was perhaps a dream; or a daily drug
I couldn't crack the riddle that he carried
He was so marvelously riddled
He was so simple expressive
He was so humbly manifested
I do not dramatize him
I'm fact, he was the disciple of literature
He hurt me, he hurt me in every way
His words wounded me
He knocked me down
He was a fake mass
But something was there that startled me
He was confident before me
He faced me without any contradictions
Despite being full of fixes, he'd a huge space
So liberally lost... so trapped in social norms
He disregarded social norms
And refused the rifts of religion
There were times when I joined him
At times he'd call me
And the times I remember when were one
We are still sadly the one and united
To me, he was a melodious moon
I stroked to him angrily
I reacted and I resisted
But he embraces a peaceful vibe
I later on used to repent
I dint tell him but my tears would try me
I cried like an infant
He felt my sighs
But went pragmatic and heartened me
In his poems I'm still an eloquent rhyme
But I don't like to be rhyme
Nor do I wish to be a rose
I want to live aloud
I want to love unbound
I want to be me and that's what I am
I don't want this I
I want to return to my mom
I want to be a baby again
Manly oaths and opinions scare me
Fair God, save me! Holy Lord, accept me
I love you; I hate them who swear by thy name
You're an absolute brilliance
You're an invisible air
A forlorn feel
And you're the one whom he couldn't reach
Her lured to see
From his words
Long sentences, short sentences
He tried to catch my glimpse
As if he was my writer
A wild being in his nature
An innocent boy with unsung traces
I tasted in him what's unseen
Unseen was his aura
Unnamed him
The hidden him
Who walked on his own
Who firmly held me
Who swiftly slipped on
Who was my youth
Who visited along with me the oceans
Who accompanied me on hills and vales
Who turned me pale
A murmuring memory
Who denied all dictations
Who disturbed many
But the way he disturbed ignited a romance
Though disoriented from with
I believe he was a daringly handsome him
I miss him
He sang to me oftentimes
He solely sang all alone
For he was but a romance-filled intellect!