The River and the Flame

In stillness, I dissolve to him,
A flame that calls me from within.
I am his now, and he is mine,
No longer seeking, lost in time.

He whispers softly in my ear,
A voice that only I can hear.
Not thunder loud, but gentle, sweet,
His presence is where the silence meets.

I was a river, wild and free,
Seeking shores I could not see.
But in his gaze, I found my home,
The river and the ocean, one alone.

I am nothing, yet I am all,
Like endless skies and shadows' call.
In surrender, I find my place,
Not lost, but held in his embrace.

He is the root, and I the tree,
A dance of shadows, light, and sea.
In losing myself, I’ve learned to be,
The quiet rhythm of the divine decree.

Now my heart beats only his name,
No more running, no more shame.
In every breath, in every sigh,
I am his, and he is nigh.

That, which is not. :)

Until next time,

Love always,

Comments

When the stars gazed back at us.

When the stars gazed back at us, it was not about beginnings; it was about recognition. About that rare, almost fleeting moment when the universe did not feel distant or indifferent, but attentive, almost complicit. ;) I woke up remembering you, All your words, old and new. Of dreams I hold of lands unseen, As if your name’s the hum I’ve known, your face the only thing I’ve seen. Even the sun bears your name, Without you, rain feels strangely tame. They may call me mad, broken, or even wrongly built, I’d still reduce to dust all that may keep us apart, without remorse or even a speck of guilt. You and me, we took an oath, To be each other’s home through misery and gloat. If I were to do it all over again, I would, of course, I would, Wouldn't change a thing even if I could. I’ve held you through your sin, you’ve seen me through my crime Miles and miles I’ve carried all your shadows; you have borne witness to mine. Across all lives, though you forg...

Miss you like an old song.

Somewhere between an old radio song, a cold vanilla latte, and emotional unemployment, I wrote (blows raspberries ) THIS?! *insert debating one’s own sanity [poet really only means the curtains are blue] You know those people who leave so quietly that even silence starts sounding like them after a point? Excruciating enough that some nights, memory shows up disguised as curiosity and suddenly you’re three hours deep into old interviews, random reddit ravel (wtf is even that?!) , blurry photographs, and strangers loving/hating someone like they discovered them first. And somehow, against all logic, one might still end up offended… as if the world was supposed to know that your silence around them was sacred. When they sometimes wanna make you drag out of the perfectly made (very very comfortable) cocoon then climb on top of that rooftop yell (softly though) for them to bloody get out of their head, how they’ve stretched out the liberty by far m...

Aadat.

Khaama-khaayii kaisi ye aadat , Chalo maana jaayaz tumhari shiqayat. Kabhi baaton ka rang udh jaaye, kabhi khamoshi ruk jaaye, Dil ke pardon ke beech koi purani dhoop thodi der tik jaaye. Kabhi tumhari parwah hawa ki tarah aakar guzri, par kaha nahi, Jhaank ke jab tumne apne dill ko dhoonda, tumhe vo mere paas mila, vahan nahi. Masle toh the, par jaise sirhaane se khud hi phisal gaye, Sargoshii ke taar bhi ek din be-sabab sisak gaye. Mohabbat nahi, par ek narm si hasrat tumhari reh gayi, Guftugu nahi, par ek halki si mehfil dil mein beh gayi. Sabr aur khair tera aqsar kare zikr, Qissa na bhi sunau intezaar ka, mujhe phir bhi rahegi thodi fikr. Na hi jaan aur na koi pehchaan, toh bewajah yeh kaisi shiqayat? Fitoor mera tum toh nahi, phir bhi kaisi ye aadat ?

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