A collaborative heartspill on words and wordsnot.
There are words that are said, and there are words that are felt. But there always is a way to express!
life provides two traveling companions –
love and pain.
and who can tell between the two?
love and pain, one and the same,
for each are and always will be:
ugly as beautiful,
attractive as horrifying,
dangerous as safe,
irresistible as intolerable,
hopeless as promising,
invaluable as worthless.
love and pain, companions and foes.
both serve identical functions:
to remind you that you are alive,
and make you wish you were dead.
For long I try in vain to create
A picture, a sketch of the feeling great
A feeling too subtle to be described
A feeling too immense to be inscribed
I tried so hard and tried so long
Only to realize that I was all wrong
Love is a feeling that can’t be drawn
It can just be felt and touched upon
I was so stupid to capture the formless
The mighty, immense; vast and endless
How could I capture the one containing all
The happy, the sad, the big and the small?
If hatred is a sketch, then love is the page
If hatred is a play, then love is the stage
If hatred is knife, then love is the sheath
Love is the sky with all emotions beneath
Love is the canvas on which you drew hatred
But it is all too large, unaltered and sacred
On this are drawn joys, smiles and fears
On this chuckles the child, on this flows tears
Love is the ocean, formless and immense
Containing feelings: jolly, dark, deep and intense…
Many thanks for drawing it along, and teaching things through your poetry. And for staying around and painting your words for me! (=
Sitting by the window, eyes busy wandering from here to there and
there to here; and thoughts running wildly between fields and hills and
mountains. A deep dive into that ocean and another swim into that other.
Soaked outside, yet torn, parched, unmoist lips show no signs to reflect.
Tears! Tears fill up those sea-blue eyes and obscure vision, lumps gather
in throat, yet none of the divine drop falls, not a single sound escapes.
Nothing happens, and ‘nothingness’ is attained. In those split seconds of grief,
of utmost grief, and of those supreme painful moments does God appears.
And when God appears, peace takes charge. Or when ‘nothingness’ seeps,
Nothing Else Remains.
BELOW is what a friend Yamna Farrukh responded with, after she read A Rotten Rose. She says she felt the same way:
He really surprises me.
I know I’ve been bad..
I am even afraid to read His book!
Wondering If He’ll tell me about
About the Munafiqeen..
I’m afraid to read it.
He surprises me!
He knows my weaknesses..
How I always fall for it..
He knows I’m scared, ashamed..
Yet still he wants to guide me..
He tells me, ‘You can always repent’
He says He knows I’m just a human.
I make sins, I repent.
And sin, and repent.
He tells me, that He loves me.
That He can forgive me.
He is Al-Wadood, Al-Ghafoor
He finally says that every rose counts!
Even a wilting rose can blossom again!