The separation stretches for more than twenty hours,
I wait and wait and wait...
At the lonely station
For a train that gets cancelled
After getting delayed for so long,

I yearn for the journey
The destination beguiles me,
So, if not by train
I'll cover the distance imagining
the time which tied us together like spokes of a wheel.

Dictating my mood
with a single thumb press,
I'm happy
Or Sad
It's only a matter of your single Text.

Heartache is waiting,
Again I'm falling in love...

Making the night
lethargy
by our
sensualness.

I was walking yesterday
I am now,
And I will be tomorrow,
Nothing has changed,
We're hopeless and starved yesterday,
We're hopeless and starving now,
Day changes, the sun changes its course
But  we move on to the same dusty road
in search of handy chores
to hear the jingle in our pockets.


The stakes were different at different times.
Earlier it was thirst and hunger,
Now is the fight against stillness,
We cannot stop.
The houses that we built
The families that lived in it
barricaded from moving ahead,
But we must move on.

The vehicles, the baton, the air, the iron,
the hands of rich and politicians equally
noosing our neck, rammed us in desperation,
As we vowed not to stop.

Our sweat and blood wicks the lamps
glowing in those homes,
We are the horses that pulled these lifeless cities,
the moon shadowed under its corruption.
But we cannot compromise,
My life depends on the walk,
And I have to walk.

We cannot stop.
We must walk.
For those who stop withers early.

Whose art are thou?
Who is your creator?
'cause I've traced you in every poem and each sculptor,

Were you in Rumi's mind when he wrote, “we are the mirror as well as face in it"

Or In Mir's when he remarked-
"love is the beloved and lover too"
Who art thou?
Where you dwell?

I've seen you in Shakespearean tales
Are you Rosalind or Juliet
Being the centre of the play who dazed audience,
Or one of the long poetry of Milton and Elliott,

Who art thou?
Where thy home?

Are you Beatrice whom Dante
wrote in Divine comedy,
Or Helen, the unparalleled beauty
Or the Monalisa , a dream that Vinci's brush brought on canvass,
Or Kalidasa's mesmerizing Shakuntala

Who art thou ?
Where thy abode ?

Are you a Spenserian sonnet
Or Donne's wit and conceit?
Is it you who shot former "thousand arrows by eyes"
And became latter's "all states and a world ",
Who art thou?

This world is in you
Or you in this world?

You are art
Or art is from you?

Doubts are in hundred

Answer only one-

Any book I read,
The words I write,
All the poems I recite

In all my night’s dream
There's somewhere I find you embedded in them,

It's like all the great poets, artisans had already known you,
And carved you in pages and stones for me.

The hopeless battle
we stretch day by day,
Be quick!
Live
or
Put an end to it.