The Musician

Strum the strings of my heart

Sing to me...

Sing to me

like a waterfall, rushing down the rocks

crash me in you, you in me

Dance with me...
Dance with me

hearts, beating the same beat

breathes, catching the same pace

Behind the darkness’s veil,

in the blues of the dawn

Break out of your skin...

And touch me with your soul

Hold my hand,

Soar above to the light

Hit the sky with a high note

burst with me...

and shower throughout the night in meteors

Fall in me, deep through the eyes
Come raining down inside my chest
swirl with me,
in the whirlpool of our hearts...

and spin the world around in Viennese waltz


Play for me,
the song of the souls...
Sing to me, heart to heart.

Time Bombs

Puffs of thoughts, like smoke
circle in my head
and vanish into the walls of my mind,
dying young
almost as if, they were never born
as if they never lived
it kills to breathe
and with every beat,
something sacred
something deep inside dies a little bit
The world, a question in itself
a mystery
and the answer, wrapped in folds of 'end'
The end,
always too soon it comes
always too late to know
almost, in vain to find
Life, a puzzle that when solved, destroys itself.

Haunted

Every night I wake up dead

Murdered by the dreams

No matter how many times I die

The pain is always the same

In the morning

I gather the ashes and throw them in the river

And every night

Every river

Finds its way back to me

Dear Joseph

With the touch of your hand,
Flowing out of your finger tips,
You pour in life
Falling down like rain on a barren ground
And the hearts are laden with gardens
Flowers slowly raising their heads and waking up,
as I read

In the scent of your thoughts,
in your every word is a symphony
a melody,
music to the soul
And every atom of my being dances to it
I can’t hold my heart from leaping out
And coloring all the pages pink                
Like the petals of a rose

Your words,
Open window to a new world
A forgotten place, where I might have lived before
some lives ago
And every sight, everything,
 I recognize as if my own
As if, in your stories I was born,
As if,
I was never left alone,
As if,
you were never gone

When I read,
When I read aloud your words,
They leave their sweetness on the tip of my tongue
Sweeter than a thousand kisses
And I am surrounded with blooming flowers of the wild

In your words is my heart, is my heaven,
I open your book, to breathe
I put my hands on its pages for my heart to beat
Than how can I not read?
When all I am is nothing more than a breathing thought of yours
And if I don’t, make your book my Mecca
Who am I?
Perhaps all I’ll be is a paper, blank.

So, my dear
write for me,
write for them
write for yourself
write for us

Please don’t let your pen rest
In its ink, a life is thriving to be born
To be set free

Inside

Through the flesh, past the bones

Do you see me?

Do you see me?

Can you decipher the heart beats?

Do you know what breathes inside of me? 

Do you hear the hundred voices in my head?

Can you tell what they are whispering quietly?

If I take off my skin, will it scare you?

Will you close your eyes to what you’ll see?

Will you walk the endless tunnel, through my eyes?

Can you let me out? If I let you in?

Selling Cheap

The snakes climbing up the ladders

The dices bearing all ones and threes

Tying the feet of clock with hours

Letting the hands sweep it clean

Juggling days on the rope of weeks

Adding years that no longer exist

The words, drumming of empty vessels

The Soundless, movement of the lips

Faces, like cutouts of paper

Discarded, clothing of the spirits

A million chests, a single heart

A million hearts, not a single beat

A sleeping world, a common dream

Endless illusions of reality

The Alchemy of Becoming: Air

I put my fingers on the sun 

And let it rise in my heart

I step on the ocean's chest

and spread it wide beneath my feet

I paint a roof with strokes of clouds, above my head

I hang the moon in my window

And light the stars in it's panes

I drizzle with the rain

burst and shower in a million drops

Sinking in the mud

Rising another day, in a cloud

I spread my arms

from north to south

And paint a rainbow that flows, 

the colors, red and greens...

rising from a place of no beginning

touching, the land with no end

I stand against the wind

And let it pass through my soul

I let it carry me around 

and spin like an autumn leaf

I may have no name

I may wear no face...

but everywhere, I'll live

Anywhere, I may sleep

I am dust, I am water, 

I am fire, I am air

The Alchemy of Becoming: Dust

I have all religions, and I have none

I am a million souls, but I am no one

I took a stroll down the lane, I found the trees tall and green... but Silent. I looked at the sky to praise the Mighty artist's canvass and found it starless, cloudless, moonless... The houses stood grived, stoned. The Wind brought no scent, no whisper, no chuckle, no footsteps heard, no roaring engines set the sleeping ground trembling... The world stood before me... Silent. No faces, no voices... I looked from one corner of the world to the other and found it flat, plain, unobstructed... uninhabited.   

It took not the mothers to die

Neither the fathers to kill

Nor the ground to shake 

The stars to break

Or the oceans to roar and spread

It wasn't the wind shrieking and uprooting

It wasn't the storms slitting the sky open

It was not the thunder that yelled and pounced

It wasn't the streams of fire, spilled

It was but a silence

And not a single soul survived....!

I never realized how huge the world is, until it was empty. Untill it was lifeless. Untill the dusk and dawn was one. I exist alone, in the wide spread of nothingness. In it, I live. It is what accompanies me and goes with me where ever I go... where ever I go.... it is there before me and it is there with me. 

I cut the sun in two,

Slipping down, the evening went, hollow

I shattered the moon’s empty case,

Rolling went the night, hollow

It rained desert, poured sand

And the ocean’s chest, hollow

I walked through the tunnels of wind

The seasons passed, hollow

My shouts hit the barren sky,

My voice echoed, hollow
my thoughts blank, my vision blank, 
my soul, my heart, hollow.  

I stand alone and the world lays before me, flattened, widespread north to south, east to west, end to end. No one I  know, ever existed. No one I knew, exists.

Beloved

When the curtains fall and the sun is down

The moon is gone out fishing, in the silver sea

The voices and whispers have long quenched the silence’s thirst

The night is dark,

and the only rhythm is the heart beat

I see you, in the silent darkness,

at the hour when the world holds still...

and the destination walks with me,

hands in hands, through the journey

I see you, in the mirrors,

and in the words I speak and hear

In the steps I walk,

and the path,

and the pattern of the evening clouds, at the junction of night and day

that bright spot from where heavens glance,

and open up a stream of gold,
showering through the clouds,

pouring in the droplets, the petals of silver and gold 

I see you, in the tree tops

and the wings of the eagle, flying free,

far from the shackles of  reality,

soaring up above,

embracing the air beneath its wings,

coloring the sky with streaks of freedom,

where no limits, no borders can halt its flight

I see you in joy

I see you in pain

I see you, in tears streaming down my cheeks

In the ache that holds me from breathing

I see you in pieces of shattered dreams

And the fire that leaves me writhing

I see you in my heart

when it fails to beat ….

And I see you

in the strength that it takes to live again.

untitled

If my heart was a giant red blanket

I'd wrap it tight, around you

I'd let you sleep, deep inside my chest

I'd shut my eyes close

I'd breathe my breath in you

and clean the fog on your window pane

I'd blow away the clouds of your thoughts
out of your mind
and like rose petals in the path of summer breeze
I'd let them fill my veins with their scent 

I'd put my arms around you

and gather the twigs, the sticks, the autumn leaves of your soul

and I'd make you a nest

I'd pick your dreams in my hands and curl my fingers around them

I'd keep them on my palm like lighting bugs

and let them twinkle through the night

If my heart was a giant red blanket

I'd wrap it tight, around you

I'd let you sleep, deep inside my chest

I'd never wake you up

I'd never let you go

Strangers

I have been a stranger to love

And you have been so strange

For once,
Lets be the same!

For once, Let’s meet again

And this time, let’s not ask the names

Let’s not hear, what shouldn’t be said

Let’s not know, what we lost, what we had

This time,

be it a day when the past is sleeping,

a dreamless slumber

Be it a day, when the future looks away

And quietly,

Let’s just sneak out of present

Let’s meet at a place where time has no meaning

Let’s meet at a place where thoughts breathe slow,

Tenderly, 

blinking at the pace of our heart beats

And our hearts beat,  

at the pulse of soul

Let’s be strangers once again

To life, to past, to the gone and to what we might have

Let’s be strangers walking in the twilight

Let’s be strangers holding hands

Let’s love, like we never loved before

Let’s live like our eyes just opened

Let’s paint our moon black,
Let's hide the stars

Let’s seek each other in the dark

Where I don’t know who I am

And you don’t know who you have been

Let’s be strangers once again...

Resturant

I keep sitting on the chair across the table

A table for two, in a restaurant

The lights are dim, the sounds circle

And the faces before me keep on changing

I try to recall what their names were

And it’s already too late to ask again

I have no clue who I am with today

And I have no memory who was there before

I don’t know what they have been saying

Their voices sound so far and distant

My words fall out without a meaning

And leave no traces on my soul

Yet, I am here and I am talking

And I smile at them, to make it sure

My eyes fail to catch up with my lips

And my mind is too crowded to take any notes

Yet I am here, and I am talking

And people come, and people go

There is a painting of a Chinese fisherman

Hanging opposite to me on the wall

And the ceiling is all painted black

The walls around me, dark red

Everything seems to be moving in circles

And I am watching along with the walls

These walls, may have seen many faces

And I may have seen... even more

The voices might have echoed through these walls, 

trying hard to get across

But the walls … are walls!

So, I am watching along with them

I have no clue who I am with today

And I have no memory who was there before

I am a silent part of the background

Peeking through the fisherman’s eyes

Echoing the noise of forks and spoons...

And the words, that hit the walls of my heart

I watch over them all black, like the ceiling
dead, deep inside

People come, People go

People come, People go

I am no man’s home

The Third Eye

It’s been 29 weeks since we got stuck at this Island and 06 days. Yes, 06 days more. I never imagined how hard it can get to be with her, if it is only her and me. Even though we have been together since the first clock in the world ticked its first second. Yet, it took 29 weeks and 06 days on the deserted Island to understand how similar yet different we were. Our similarities collided with gigantic force and our differences were laid bare.

Me and her, the real and the reflection.

The Island has brought the past, present and future together in a way, as one folds a piece of paper and brings all the four corners together overlapping each other.

It is a place where time and life don’t walk hand in hand. One watches at a standstill while the other separates its ways and moves on. It is a dimension where gravity and air pressure cancel each other, null and void and the laws of physics are defied to create a possibility of exaltation, a state of floating between the gone, occurring and that what is to come.

It is where we are the spectators and we are the spectacle.

Most of the time, we sit at the beach and stare at the horizon, establishing a contact with the sun, the moon and the clouds; a relation of silent conversations, some disagreements, arguments, persuasion and agreements.

The battle between hope and disappointment is as constant as the cycle of night and day, one succeeds the other. 

We have started to realize that the world we lived in began here; it is here that it grew older and it is here that it will end to give birth to a new beginning. Beginning; the purest of all phenomena, sinless like an infant.

The Proposal

I am selling a clock that doesn't tick but they are offering me a good price.

I seek forgetfulness and they are giving me thoughts to force inside my head so that I wont think the new ones and I wont think about the old.

My truth has returned home, voice less and degraded. They are giving me lies, with a voice and words that are heard, respected and believed.

They are letting me borrow a skin that I can wear so that I am no longer nude.

My chest aches so I put my hand inside my ribs to grab and pull my heart out. My hand... came out empty. I found nothing. They say they will take 'nothing'. We are all people with hollow chests.

Banyan Tree

Hey Old Man,

I wonder how you are.

It’s been five years,

Since you picked my call

I don’t know how you look

but everyday I feel you in my blood

I don’t know where you live

but you are never gone from my heart

I dial you again, though you didn’t answer the last…

If only you will pick my call,

I will tell you,

That I never let you down

Though there wasn’t ever a thing that you asked of me

But I know it will make you see me as who I am, what I have become

May be we can find it now,

The one thing that you and me never had before

If only you will pick my call…

I won’t question the past, for it is past

I won’t complain about what is gone

I won’t ask you to give me anything

As I do know, that my house isn’t your home

But hey Old man,

Just tell me do you think of me?

Do you feel the rush of blood calling my name?

Do you wonder how I am and where I have been?

Tell me for once, do I mean anything….?

If only you will pick my call…

I promise I won’t cry

Even If my heart shatters at the sound of your voice

I will hold still, I won’t let you pity me

And you will only hear my smile!

If only you will pick my call…

I want you to know

That my eyes are like yours

Sad and deep

That when I smile

It reminds me of your laughter, carefree

That even though I don’t have your name lingering at the end of mine,

But in my mind

I say it every time

Someone takes my name!

If only you will pick my call…

It won’t be long, just a minute or few

Don't tell me you will return my call

Don't put me on hold, 

For you need to know

How much we are alike,

it surprises me.

Just take my call, 

For you need to know, 

the pencil you gave me when I was five

It still works like new

And that I held on to it, all this time.

If only you will pick my call

I want to tell you

I wonder if we will meet again

When I look at someone your age

It worries me to think of your health

I know you have grown older

And time is not trustable

I fear losing you,

I fear losing what I never had …

If only you will pick my call

So I am dialing one more time…

The Alchemy of Becoming: Fire

I am afraid to scream,

If I let it out

It will burn the whole world down

The noises in my head

If I speak out loud will deafen everyone around

The blood rushing in my veins, Thrashing to flow out

If I let it drop,

Will burst the volcano

And cover the sky with ash clouds

I am burning

and the water that I pour on me

turns to thunder storms

I am writhing

In a pain that death can’t cure

Turn my fire to fire divine

Burst me in a thousand stars

Laila

You ask me of love, my friend

But what I know of love is little.

For I never found a reason for love,

And in his presence, I never thought.

I surrendered my wisdom and placed it at his feet

and dropped on my knees.

I know not of its beauty,

For I bowed my head and lowered my gaze

and never dared to look at the sight that I could not endure.

I know not of the desire,

For all I wished for and all I asked, was his wish

and I found my wish in fulfilling his.

I know not of the pain,

For my blood only poured to yield

and my wounds blossomed.

I know not of the loneliness,

For the walls, the floor and the roof, sing to me

I open my eyes to his thoughts and I sleep with his dreams.

I know not of the distances,

For I live in the heart of love

and it is where I have made my home.

I know not of the possession

For I found love to be free

And I know I cannot hold the breeze in my fist.

I know not of the silence,

For when I stare at the moon, I find it staring back

And we speak in the wordless whispers through the night.

I know not of the broken hearts,

For I found love to be indestructible,

And I found the lover,
invincible.

Chasing the Shadows

It was the last hour of night and the first of morning, a time when the opposites collide and cast their spell on the fading sky, an enigma reveals and disappears before an ungrateful world, fast asleep.

I was sitting on balcony floor with Jahan, staring at the depths of the abyss before me. We were silent, as silent as the only beholders of infinite beauty can be, watching the darkness and the light, merge and separate, a kiss of waves to the shore but their return another day, another world apart. My eyes shifted to Jahan, he was lining the cigarette butts in perfect alignment, all twelve ‘corpses’ from last night.

The call for Morning Prayer from a nearby mosque broke the silence. A man dressed in white shalwar kameez and a white cap appeared in the street before us. His beard reminded me of Jesus in a weird way, he was probably going to the mosque to offer prayer but then he just looked up at us, sitting in the balcony and all of a sudden the hour transformed from magical to ‘odd hour’. Jahan was closely watching my expressions change, he asked me “does it bother you what he might think of your presence here, sitting with me?”

I smiled “No, not at all. And it is not because I am arrogant or because I think I am right. It is just that I completely understand that Right and Wrong are only as right and as wrong as their varying definitions from person to person. I respect his point of view even if I don’t agree with it. His definition will possibly be limited to his knowledge of facts and so is mine.”

“I envy you Naz” he laughed “I wish I could tolerate the society the way you do. I feel like walking to every single person and …. and preach. May be I should” He hesitated “I often think maybe I should meet people, try and get closer to them and know them but then I just shake these thoughts off. All I can see is ugliness, so I keep my eyes closed and my ears too”. He was staring at the horizon, where fire and ice were flowing layers into layers and the sun gradually floating up.  

“It reminds me of Khalil Gibran” at the mention of his name, Jahan had all his attention directed to me again. “In his book ‘The Prophet’ he says that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you So, the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you. I mean I am ugly and I am beautiful too. So is each of us. The more I meet different people, the more I agree with him”.

“How do you do that Naz? Interact but not judge? Can you possibly do that; can you stop thinking about them and their relations and roles and greed?” I sensed the heat of his boiling emotions pouring out in every word.

“Jahan, I do not know if what I say to you will make any sense but I am …. I have become Maya”. I revealed to him what I hide from myself.

“Do you mean the concept of Maya in Hinduism?” Jahan said.

“Yes. I mean the Maya. Maya that is water, it has no color, it has no odor and it has no shape. It takes the shape of the container it is poured in but retains its density. When I meet people I do not feel I am above them or below them but at their level and I do not carry with me any color or any assumptions as you may say. I open myself to their scents instead. Yet I remain who I am.” I explained to him, he nodded.

“It is feminity indeed and I do not mean it in any degrading way. I mean the existence of feminity is necessary to balance the masculinity. One is the other half of the other. Feminity, has strong roots in Sufism as well. It is what allows you to feel beyond experience and to experience beyond feelings, is masculinity. God himself is the balance of both, the creativity and the power”.

“Strange… you know Jahan, I recently read in Quran a verse that says: ‘It is He Who created you from a single person, and made his mate of like nature, in order that he might dwell with her in love’ (7:189) and I wondered why it said ‘a single person’….it all makes sense now. It is perhaps a division of the feminity and the masculinity that are meant to exist or have existed in the same person. Perhaps it is the reason why one finds rest with the other or remains in quest”. I listened to my own words. I found the answer to the question that haunted me for weeks.

“I recognize that”. Jahan smiled. “And love will not be satisfied until it finds beauty”.

“Well said. Is this a quote?” I asked.  

“It’s from a story actually. Once a girl was standing in the window and combing her hair. She was very beautiful. Her house was close to a mosque and at that time the people were going for prayer. Among them was a Sufi too. The girl’s mother looked at her and shouted ‘you are shameless. Go inside to comb your hair’. The Sufi heard her mother and while standing in the mosque he said ‘do not tell beauty to hide, for love will not be satisfied until it finds beauty’. People thought he was insane but two people there were so moved by his saying that they became his disciples”. Jahan narrated the story fluently. “Try convincing our Mullah’s nowadays about something like this, you will be dead” He said sarcastically.

“So true, they scare people from the wrath of the Almighty. It seems as if they have forgotten that it is not the fear of wrath, destruction or the fear of power that is required for obedience. It is not the greed of heaven or the sanctuary from hell.  The worshipper is like a lover, all he fears is losing the one he loves, he fears annoying him and he refrains from anything that might hurt the one he holds dear”. I said and as always I confused love and I confused worship. I still don’t know how to separate the two.

"The bond between a creator and a creation is that of mother and a child". Jahan added to the point I made.

"You know I think we are all immortals. I mean open any book of religion, the widely followed ones and you will find a concept of afterlife. Hence, if there is afterlife than death is nothing more than a transition. We die and go back to where we came from, retaining the memories though and the report card. Life is the name of going full circle, completing the round, like orbits".

"I recognize this too". Jahan said. "But life comes with responsibility towards others. This is where I always get stuck. The Society".

"Interestingly and fortunately 'Society' itself is a theory. I mean the existence of society is theoretical and not a universal law". What I said pretty much shocked Jahan.

"What you mean is that you do not believe in societies? He was surprized.

"I do not deny the social structures or systems but I also disagree about how powerful they are portrayed to be and how powerful they actually are.  I mean yes, there are abundant researches on mob behaviors, about social dynamics and all but 'individualism' has always been the key change factor in all societies. Track any revolution back and you will find one individual standing at the end of it. Or take the example of any Prophet, all were one man shows who triggered humongous changes in the society. And I always think like that one individual behind". I said the last line jokingly and it made him laugh.

"When I was a kid I read a story. A father gives his son a puzzle, it was a picture of the world, the globe. When the father returned, he found that his five year old has already completed the picture. Surprised he asked him, son this was a complex puzzle how did you manage to do it so fast? His son turned the puzzle upside down and told him that dad, at the back of the puzzle was a picture of a man, all I did was fixed the man and the world was fixed it self". Jahan's brief story took me back in my childhood. 

The sun spread its wings over the sky and the night was concealed. The chirping of birds was interrupted by the loud roaring vehicles. The sleeping giants finally woke up; the meteors grew tiny, close to disappearance, a reduction into nothingness.

“Again, we have been up all night with no food or water”. Jahan stood up from the marble floor of the balcony. “Should I get you something?” He asked me.

“There is water over there at the table behind you. Please pass it on”. I said.

He picked up the bottle, held it close to his face looking at it. “Wow, this has gotten really warm. I will get you some from the fridge”.

“No, this is okay”. I took the bottle from him.

“How can you drink such hot water? I don’t understand how anyone can drink hot water. It is a good 40 degrees out here. This is boiling”. Jahan watched me as I poured the water in glass.

“I am blessed” I said smilingly “I can drink hot water, sleep on the floors, eat leftovers and also I can eat at a seven star hotel with perfect manners. The thing is I have realized it does not change anything”. I took a few sips of water and Jahan kept looking at me.

He said "Something tells me that I will need to know a lot more about you".

“Well, I have no explanation for my past and may not have one for my future but I am humbly grateful to him who raised me, brought me up and fed me as he feeds an insect under a stone. I know of the suffering and I know that soil needs to be ploughed to yield and also, that it is only a fertile land that is chosen to plough and cultivate. So I am blessed. I value pain and I respect suffering”.  

“You speak of the three virtues, Naz”. Jahan’s eyes sparkled, as if reading everything in my head. “Do you know the three fundamental virtues?”

I shook my head “no”.

“It begins with Humility, humility is acceptance of what you are given, it is the opposite of pride. what you just said is humility. The second is Veracity which is truth, obedience and acceptance, like the worship of God out of love not fear. And the third is Charity. Charity, although, is not just the name of giving money away, it is when you let the beauty shine from inside out and share it”. Jahan said and went inside the house to get water.

My eyes followed him as far as they could. It struck me how I got it all wrong, I thought I was there for him but he was there for me. Since the time when I first saw him, his shadow in the window, he was peeping out and his room was completely dark. I knew he was making sure that no one should be outside before he comes out of his room; he was trying to avoid any conversation, any contact and any words spoken or heard. It was when I asked the old lady, ‘who is he?’ It was when I chased the shadow.

I travel miles and miles, I move from planet to planet and yet somehow, I find them all circling the same star. May be, the seekers of the same destination are meant to cross paths.

untitled

I find God, only as often as I find Satin. 

The Alchemy of Becoming: Transition

I wasn’t supposed to be there where I was. This is all I know. But I was there.

I felt the strong pull of moon and my heart rose to it. My eyes fixed at someone, someone I wasn’t able to see through the glass wall, the corridor in between and another glass wall. I had no reason and I had no desire yet, my eyes whispered to the heart, whispers that I did not understand. I kept telling myself that I had no reason and I had no desire but somehow every time I found my eyes staring in the same direction, not knowing what they wanted to see. The more he was obscure, the strongest the attraction grew. He was someone I knew, in an unknown world. The power, the magnetism numbed every other thought, logic and reasoning. He was a path, a journey calling my name, a voice that silenced every other sound around me. Slowly, I watched my surroundings fade and dissolve until all I could see was the path. Mesmerized, I took my first step towards it. Something in me knew I was headed for the end of what I knew and as I knew it. But it was where I was meant to be.

With each step I took, the grains of sand started to fall in the bottomless hourglass. The degeneration was set in motion; it began a journey of betrayal, revolution and identification. Every atom of my body vibrated to the resonance, to break free. A journey of soulless fission raised a power strong enough to destroy everything in its path. The long nights of the inextinguishable fire left me writhing but left no burn marks. I caged the hurricane in my ribs and it sent my thoughts shrieking, echoing from ear to ear. All I could do, all I did was put my hands on my ears and scream. 

For days and days, the only words that came out of my mouth were screams. The suffering seemed to have no end until every particle of my body broke free; dust in dust, water in water, air in air and fire in fire.

I looked around, all I saw was infinity and all I heard was silence. I reached there, where  'I'  seized to exist.

Rebellion - Chapter II

"And of His signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth, as well as the difference of your languages and colors. In these, there are signs for people of knowledge". (30:22)

"Oh humankind! We created you from a single pair of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, so that you may know each other (not that ye may despise each other). Verily the most honored among you in the sight of Allah is he who is the most righteous of you. And Allah has full knowledge and is well acquainted (with all things)" (49:13).

In search of destination, somewhere along the road I lost the will and I lost the longing. I broke into a thousand stars and lost the sun. 

Each star choose its own destination and the universe surrounded itself in chaos. Darkness became its whole and light was scattered in mere grains; tiny sparks flew around, turned into ash and got swallowed by the night. 

I sat on the last step of the stairs and lit a cigarette; another spark, some more ash lead to the dark end. I thought of the previous night when Harry knocked at my door and I found my feet frozen. He kept knocking and I kept still, wanting to open the door for him with a crippled desire. I didn't move and he did not leave. The night passed at a cloud's pace and another succeeded. 

My eyes were following the paths of smoke, chasing it to the belly of night when I was startled by an old man standing opposite to me. He smiled. He asked me "do you mind if I join you"? Another uninvited guest.... But with Harry gone, any company seemed good. He sat right next to me on the last step and followed my eyes, chasing the smoke. 

We sat there quietly, starring in the dark, My cigarette was the first to die out of the three of us, I put it to rest. The old man was still smiling at me, so I broke the ice. 

"I won't ask who you are since you are already here anyways. How about you tell me what brought you here?"

His voice, seemed somewhat familiar. He said: "I guide those who seek my approval. I guide them to the paths of peace, lead them out of darkness into the light by my leave, and guide them in a straight path".

His answer got me thinking. I asked "But as much as I recall. I didn't ask for any one's approval. I don't understand. I think you probably messed up the address or something. You are in the wrong house".

He shook his head, "I am the one who is never wrong. Why do you think you didn't open the door last night? The rainbow shrank to black, white and brown, the wings but no sky, the branches of the same tree...etc etc etc ... rings a bell?"

Still baffled and hesitant, I said "yeaaaaa .... It does"

The sparks were flying all around us. The light was making patterns I couldn't recognize but were there. 

He spoke, his voice, thick as the shade of an old tree, the echo spread in all dimensions. 

"You questioned, so you shall be answered"!

Rebellion

As we grow older, we begin to believe in impossibilities, in defying the miracles and looking for purposes behind every action and word spoken.

Learning the names of colors, red, orange, white, blue, brown, violet…it seems like a game as a child, a rainbow and then the same colors one day become the giant parameters on which we are judged and our limits are set. The rainbow shrinks to white, brown and black.

The God, we are taught to thank and love. All of a sudden transforms into something to fear, run and hide from, someone whose name can justify taking a thousand souls and breaking a million hearts.

The story of Adam and Eve…we are all branches of the same tree … yet somehow with every passing year we grow to learn how one branch is different than the other, some bearing fruits, some green and some leafless and some are to be cut off for the survival of the others.

Love, “too young to know what conscience is”…. Love, the subject most widely covered by philosophers and poets, the supposedly ‘divine’ emotion… as we grow older ‘love’ steps out of the fairy tales, puts on a business suit, does its calculations of rights, wrongs, races, religion, color, nationality, status … differences, differences, differences… the minus and plus, love does its math, who you are allowed to love and who you cannot. The differences weigh more than the passion, the loyalty, the affection, the holiness of love.   

All your childhood years, they keep filling your head with the equality, the diversity, the rights… and once you grow up they let you out in a world where your race is rubbed on your face at each and every step and your gender becomes a ‘product’ to sell. Every door you enter opens into a market. 

Religion, “the faith” supposed to make one humble and strong becomes the ultimate weakness. Explain every action to the worldly gods… every day a judgment day.

They keep nurturing your wings for decades, they teach you how to fly and once you are ready, they break the news “the wings are yours but the sky is not”.

I question the freedom … I question the freedom of the free beings, of the Free State and the free world.

I lit the fire and the heat is black. It is 3:41 am and I hear some one knocking at my door. I know it is Harry and I know he was right. 

To Love Like Him

When my hands are empty and my heart grieved,
The wounds that nothing can heal,
I look up to you ...
I bring you the broken toy that no child would play with,
The land, no farmer would plow,
You take my worthless pebbles and return me with gold.
I wonder how you do what you do!

You take my pain and keep my sorrows,
You touch and turn my tears to pearls,
Never asked me once, to return what is yours,
Even though, I am yours too...
I wonder how you do what you do!

I run, I fall, I play with dirt,
I hear you calling my name out loud,
Too eager to play I turn a deaf ear
but when I come back home crying, bruised and hurt,
You run to me, You pick me up.
I wonder how you do what you do!
  
I let loose the reins of my heart,
I bow in temples, I kneel in the mosques.
I play in the holy water, like sparrow on a summer afternoon...
Yet, Where ever I go, Where ever I pray,
I end up finding you there.
I wonder how you do what you do!

I know, all you want from me is to be yours
And yet, you let me go away as far I want to go.
Though, all it would take for you is a word "happen"
and it will, before the blink of an eye.
Still you never choose your will over mine...
You wait for me to come to you,
Even if it means eternity.

I am dazzled, I am amazed,

by the million ways you have loved me, 

and a million more...
My Lord, You taught me how to Love! 

Morning Star

When the night was darkest,

And the desire breathed its last breath,

Standing at the edge of the world,

Where there was no more land to step on,

And no way of turning back,

I said good bye to the parting dreams.

When the night was darkest,

I laid under a lonely tree, waiting for the last beat,

I closed my eyes.

I closed my eyes and it was there, the morning star!

I bathed in its tender light and my soul brightened.

Though, it is still the darkest night,

And I stand at the edge of the world,

But I have him to hold my hand

And walk with me; together we carve a path on the Milkyway

We walk towards the light.

There is a new world and a new beginning, budding open,

Standing there, on the other side of the end.

The Scent of Rain

He waits for the wounds to get infectious, rotten and festering before he offers you dressing, sits with you and sheds tears. 

He watches, as you starve. He is never in hurry. He waits and waits patiently until all you can think of is a drop of water and a morsel of food. And then he walks in, in all his glory, with an apple from the forbidden tree and a glass of wine, with a drop of blood in it. 

He flatters, he lures, he threats, he empties and discards but with the chosen ones, he sometimes gets generous. He employs them, a collar around their necks and a leash, in his hand. I hear them howling in the early morning hours. It late, too late.

I went to my Island and built walls where there were windows. I locked the doors and got rid of the keys. I was contented with my self-imposed isolation. The next thing I know, Harry is standing right behind me, keenly browsing through the books I stacked on my shelf.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath.  “You never care for an invitation do you?”

He turned, said “Why should I?... I never leave”. 

I made my way to the chair and dropped on it. “Let’s face it. Only one of us is going to make it to the end and I will make sure it’s not you”. 

Harry laughed “You are threatening me? I mean … Seriously? That’s hilarious”. 

I shook my head “Well. Honestly speaking, if I kill myself right now that will be an act of kindness but with you still alive, I will prefer to be unkind”. 

Harry took the other chair; it’s just two of those at my place. He said “Try it…. may be you get lucky. But the real problem here is” He paused, “that you, and me… we are the same. You are Harry and I am you”. He leaned back in the chair “First, you got to find a way to separate the two”. 

I smirked “This is where you get wrong. We are not the same, you are not me and you can never be. However…. what you are trying VERY hard to do is to make me believe that I am you”. I smiled “Dude, you need to see a shrink, though I kind of feel sorry for that guy already”.

His eyes sparkled, “You know why you hate me? I am not any different than your annual exams, you see, I am a TEST. Who likes it haanh? No one, you can never like me. But you know what, that is not fair. It’s not. When you pass, you are the hero but when you fail, you blame the Test...you blame Harry! I don’t like that. I am, I am just a Test and you all, all of you, you think that I will go to Hell for testing you….pufffhhhh … cracks me up. I am doing you a favor; actually I am doing God a favor. How else would he know what your filthy little souls are capable of?”

So we were back to square one. I told him “Harry, you like playing God don’t you? This testing people stuff. It’s not your job, it never was. And you know why you are what you are cause YOU my friend screwed up your test. What did you do Harry, though yours was the simplest of all tests but no, you blew it up. Big guy with a big ego. You are a Failure Harry, a sadist. You like bringing people down so they can join you at your level, sure as hell makes you feel less screwed up doesn't it”. 

His eye burrows stiffened, he leaned closer to me and inhaled, uttered a moan, a sigh “You still smell of me”.

He smiled cunningly. “Do you think I don’t know? I can see it” He pointed his finger towards my left chest. “Deep in there, you liked my place better, this “level” you call it. You liked it, you know you did. The swamp, the filth, it is where you felt you belonged. It welcomed you… it….it owned you….and these angels of yours, what did they do when you needed them? You kept knocking and knocking and knocking…… No” He placed his finger on his lips “silence, nothing. You didn’t hear from them because they … DON’T CARE… give a damn” his hands went up in the air, his voice louder. 

He looked at me with pity, “I will give you what he didn’t. You, you are special to me. You are…”. He hesitated, his voice dampened “You remind me of love. I loved him as one should be loved, just like you did. I touched the heights that no one dared to; all I did, all I did was love. Nothing for myself. I was … what do you call it … ‘star struck’.” He paused. His tongue flicked out and wiped his lips in a quick snake like move.

“When I look at you I see myself. This pain, this anger, these…these bloody haunting question Why? Why? Why?” His voice louder, angrier “What did I lack? What was it that I didn’t do for him? I would have done anything for him, anything. If he asked me to, I would jump off the edge of sky for him and wouldn’t even ask why.  I gave him the best of me; I laid my emotions bare in his feet, I bowed to him and never raised my head. But what did he do?  Why … What was it that I didn’t have?”  Drops of water lingered at the corner of his eyes. 

I said to him, “Hey, Harry. Come on man. I never got my answers either. Let’s just say Shit happens”.

He quickly wiped his eyes with his hand “no, no its doesn’t. This love and hate. These are the sides of the same coin. It’s time to flip it, show the world that they can’t step on us…no not anymore.” He slowed down, stared at me “Your eyes … this … this darkness, flickering, dancing in your eyes. You are mine. You have always been mine. Don’t hide from it”. His voice grew softer “You… You need it. You need Me and we both know that”.  

I laughed “Stop yanking me. I don’t wear a collar around my neck and you are not holding my leash. I need you, Yes I do. But do I want you? Nops! I don’t.” I leaned back in my chair, carefree.

He looked as relaxed, as certain as I was. He smiled at me and said “But You will….. You will see that and when the time comes, I will not let you down. We will both see that. It’s only, a matter of time". He leaned  forward, closer to me "I mean, look around you. Come on, take a look. I am ALL you are left with". His eyes shined with vanity, his voice thickened with assertion "I am your only choice. There is nothing left…nothing. No doors no windows nothing. No more miracles” 

I got closer to him, staring back in his devil eyes. “Miracles?.... Harry, you know I was what I made myself to be..... Although I lost what I created but what you don’t know is that the Miracle…the Magic, is in these hands. If I can create it once, I will create it again. If I lose it again, I will create it again and again”. I saw his confidence melting, crawling back to where it came from. His face stiffened. I said "I will do what I WILL, but what I am afraid of, is that YOU will always find my will stronger than your ambitions”.

I watched his color change. He was furious. Though there were no windows and the doors were locked, but a fresh breeze blew and brought the scent of rain.