Quaid - Uz- Zaman Poems

This is inferno. It has let loose all the horrors.

We created it and loved or hated it.
...

Not a great work,
other than this act of dying!
To make an end of a beginning—
this, a journey, woven with shadows and light,
...

Everything I have, all borrowed and gifted;
And I owe to the small, high, and great.
Nothing is mine—innocence or crime
And all that is acquired and inherited;
...

All the crowd is moving, each soul with its rhythm;
The solitary moon with its constellations, the lonely star,
Or a pulsar light-years distant—
All the clouds and the deserted ones,
...

Whatever I do, this or that is destined to happen,
According to Nature's laws, both mutable and immutable,
At His will.
The wind blows, changing its direction;
...

Every moment runs with the wheel of his labor.
His paddling rests on hunger and uncertainties,
earning a livelihood by churning blood into dew drops
glittering upon his forehead.
...

Life is not a luxury; it is always a need-based one. You can't hoard up the excesses. You can't live without the minimum. All the vital signs are in perfect balance, and a failure in either direction brings chaos—untold suffering. Each system has its own inborn rhythm and harmony, with distinct wave patterns. Billions die, and billions are reborn, but the count remains constant.

It is a synchronized therapy you cannot ignore, and how could I deny the perfect creation and His omnipresence so truly defined? With joys and sorrows, with shades and lights, my heart undulates, and life moves on as usual.
...