Un Voyage

From this word, I breathe to lie,

To the world an illusion and to me, myself.

A world that appears to live with your mind,

With each word that you read,

My lie elaborates a reason to live.

Now that we are together,

You and me, lets embrace my visions though your eyes,

I will write about the sunset,

And you cry out for the moon,

I will incarnate a feeling,

And you colour it within.

But, before we leave to this empty page,

You should know that I am here for the play,

I run away from my own desires,

and leave such thoughts to rust in deny,

And do we really need to rhyme our journey ?

And I should warn you again, my friend,

Dante never burned in hell.

It was the man who wanted the travel,

Lost and never to be found again.

If you are willing to come,

Let me tell you, the river often flies with the dead of love.

And now you are my creation, a song,

We can fly like a bird,

Die in another word,

Live like the Bhrama’s call,

Deceive the stars of destiny above.

A poet’s point being a puzzle,

What difference resides between a human and a word,

A word and a belief,

A lie and a truth,

Rather all began and die out lose?

I believe I am a word of my poet,

I will end within the verse of life,

Yes, with a meaning that only he will decide,

A lie, A thought, Just an inspiration to write.

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Pandora

Thunder, darkness and cry held the sky,

She had her feet above the night,

Holding on to the darkest colors and rhymes 

But the rain got her in time,

Then came the colors above and the dark over powered the light

Greed, lust and all the filth held on the spill 

The poor girl then held her instincts, 

Cage was empty now, the color black was gone,

The only thing that remained was hope inside the little stone.

Her name was Pandora and she cried out for the sins,

She kept in the most evil shade ,

Yes the hope within.

The Coloured Truth

An expression from this universe,

The rhythm of our hearts,

The assemblance of the stars,

Colours of the hopes far apart,

Are we drunk in illusions and scars ?

For all we see is dark.

The colour unknown,

Filled within our vision for the globe,

We might have ordaned our planet with colours,

But they keep fading in the space of the rooms,

As if they set like the sun into the night,

And never return to embark the truth of life,

Sciences pounder over this painting of illusions,

And someday they will bring out the frame,

Years to years, we will be decieved by shades of immitation.

As if literature held the core of this universe,

And everything meant out meant in,

Do we feel the darknes within us ?

Darkness all around and inside,

But what colour is it, unknown.

The colour we cant fathom to our conscience and lores,

Something as bright as invisible to our light,

Somwehere where the frames dont fit to remind the night,

And the where the sun resides over every ally.

Where dark embraces through light,

And there is no colour undefied.

-Sagar Arora

The Story Of A Human Being

 

“She had blood, but no nation,

She had love, but not a destination,

She had colours in her life,

She was the Nur of Humanity”

 

She was trapped in a cell, grey walls were the only companion to her thoughts; no memory about her past, just the pain trembling through her nerves to the head where no questions could fall apart. A cell was her knowledge of the universe, somehow a woman in her twenties lost all her vision into an abyss made of four walls. She looked at the gate and gazed to the different colour in hopes, till her eyes lost the sense to behold the vision.

She opened her eyes in the hospital, she heard a lady near her calling out, “Nur?” “Open your eyes Nur”. The woman grabs a sense to a world unknown and he could decipher nothing but the colour of her cloths. She was in a hospital bed, with strings digging into her heart, has she lost it all? She thought, remembering herself, finding her consciousness. She asks out to the people around and the lady replied “My dear daughter, Alllha has blessed us! My dear child, you suffered an accident last month and just regained consciousness. I am so happy to see you, Nur.” She knew her name and the fact about how she cannot retain anything because of injury; she could not find herself within the mist of the situation, but she felt a sense of harmony with presence of the people around her.

Nur found a place in the Khan family as the only daughter and build up a new life, after a few years of regaining the senses of the world, she started teaching in a small school in Pakistan. She was able to educate herself with the new generation and her life was progressing with a normal phase of love and affection for her work.

Her injury remained subtle, but she used to have nightmares having no symbolic representation, she could gain her memories but her positive attitude lead her towards success. She fell in love with a man named Umair, they married and had a baby girl. Nur’s life was running through a simple and sweet approach of time and situation.

One day, Nur and Umair had a vigorous fight over an issue of her working for more hours and not looking after her personal health, the night following to the day bought a tormenting dream.

I remember what was told, shoot the prick in the face, that’s what commander general told me. Ahmed Husain, the man who gave coordinates to the secret Intelligence base in India that reckoned its faith to a terrorist attack. I remember what he said to me, “Neha ! Find the man and shoot the prick in the face”.

The target was aimed, I could sense the feel of accomplishment. I waited for Ahmed to be alone in the room, so that a hit can revenge the vice he initiated to my Nation. My aim was fixed on him, his family went out and the last member that went out was a small girl wearing a pink traditional wear, my heart throbbed for a moment, but I knew the mission that I had to accomplish.

I took the shot and that’s all I remember.

It was 3 am, she woke up with her heart running out a similar sense of pain to her nerves. “It was a dream, it is just not possible.”

She picked up her phone and typed the words AHMED HUSAIN. The search results flushed a sequence of visions, she closed her eyes and realised that Neha was never Nur.

The lady stayed there in her bedroom, with her eyes closed, with a heart throbbing out for something that cannot be described. The feeling could not be highlighted.

She opened her eyes and saw her daughter sleeping gently, the baby was dressed in pink and the single colour provoked a cry of her life.

“What’s the matter, Nur?” Umair asked her, as he woke up in fear.

The room with a family amalgamated through faith was reckoned to silence. The lady took her time to answer and after wiping her tears she said, “ I am lucky to have you, Umair. I love you”

The Mystique Creativity.

The erythemic stance of the blood,

the vibrant speculation of the eye,

the hold of a sensation through the skin,

the essence of expression from a lie,

entangling the vision of light and darkness,

through the greatest valleys of our thoughts,

here we are, wandering in the canopies of our ethos,

the believe is fading, enabling the scripts to be lost.

Human, the  discerned existence of the universe,

are lost with the calibre to create,

unknown to the fundamental element of this curiosity,

and far away from the mystical existence of the clay,

the material was everywhere, abandoning the glare,

provoking the ethos to enable its birth,

and the creation to witness their fall from the grave.

The serpent drew its poison to the light,

and we were left with the fruit, well-defined,

the fruit was the emblem to learn and seek,

but where we breath, does not justify the need,

follow to seek, and provoke the totem out of reach,

find the lost mystique , be guided to the real colour of the sea.

 

 

 

 

 

Inferno and the influx of Humanity

The world is onto a verge of a revolution, the one that may define and break out a new definition to humanity. A small community to a country and a country to a continent that may uphold the life of Earth is indulged onto the intrinsic defeats all over, a complex war has began and this one might not need a name to popularize the conflicts within man kind. The virtual display of world war III is predicted over  the fronts of newspaper and through the enhancement of human hamartia of the colecsed set of personal believes the plague has taken its shape and inferno shall reveal the meaning of the true space Utopia.

This hidden war is not about the loss, but the influx to the human sight. Terrorism, Euthanasia, War, Territorial conflicts and Religious conflict shall spread the plague of disbelieve and the ruins will describe the story and justify the power of human conscious, the element of thought that a homosepian grow up with and eventually depict a unique definition to every single entity.
The plague is out and it seems we cannot contain the eruption of contradiction within our conception of human enforcement. The cry of every Syrian infant , the fear of every individual living in the terror of the outbreak war, the wounds of a migrant and the struggle to develop over racism in the European nation and the rebel inside the mind of a child shaping up his views for a certain believe of spirituality amongst the darkest core of contradiction will enlighten our faiths to a Renaissance.

A revival to human instincts is near, and for the plague to reach its peak, the plan is set from the space which is dark to us , the unknown entity beyond the sky shall reveal light of awakening.

6.The Interregnum

Thunder, darkness and cry held the sky,

She had her feet above the night,

Holding on to the darkest colors and rhymes 

But the rain got her in time,

Then came the colors above and the dark over powered the light

Greed, lust and all the filth held on the spill 

The poor girl then held her instincts, 

Cage was empty now, the color black was gone,

The only thing that remained was hope inside the little stone.

Her name was Pandora and she cried out for the sins,

She kept in the most evil shade ,

Yes the hope within.

I opened my eyes and found myself in the grassland next to the library and was terrified with the dream, it showed the very opposite of the path I was dwelling upon. The dream must have been from the crazy history I used to read before, it was about ‘Hope’ being a negative thing, the most dangerous one. I adjusted my self in a more comfortable posture, my back has started to ache because of the weird posture I slept in, Artic was still beside me and the moon still above. The philosophy that life was mending me in was very tricky and I suppose the dream was just a fatal expression of the bad posture. I was certainly exposed to the very idea that super natural is all around. Even my dreams were rhyming like Mr Abel’s word but unfortunately just the opposite thing he said to me in the very first meeting. I went inside the library hoping other signs will amend my thinking to the right visual, I went inside and picked up the same book Sara had in her hand. It was black, purely leather I suppose and the pages were as if never touched, I took it and sat down near desk where my diary was kept, I opened the book and text said

Humans are blessed with the vision of good and bad, and hence of course there will be another depth where thoughts descends.Keep in mind while reading what your souls call for, keep your heart at the place where it belongs, so shall be the destiny and the journey you descend. 

I turned the page with intentions to discovers whats hidden.

Sun was the first to rise, with moon it ascended time,

colors were his calls and the odor was for the dawn,

Second were the descents of gods and evils,

And where the colors and odor was forgotten 

Few saw the mystique of creation,

But with the rise of the nature, its own dull wishes came after the presence of the universe.

The world is now lost onto the dull and the gold was always there but too common to breath

You my dear shall know the gold , no matter if you call them god or shores

For you shall be the one to let them know,

let them get their hearts to glow 

over power the flow of the hubris 

burn up the sands and the new bliss

For their was only one thing to know 

Not the two elements to grow.

People think of darkness and the faith of brightness, they see the world as their own. They lack to understand that magic is the very creator , magic is a people’s word. The color and odor of sun and the moon is referring to the unknown, the creator, the bliss. Do not mistake him to your Gods and the Evils and DO NOT DESCENT INTO THE CREATED GODS AND EVIL FOR THEY KNOW NOTHING BUT THE END AND DARKNESS, the lights is always above and blessing the souls, the creator is everywhere , feel him and divert his creation. Know him and feel the stature, now I have given you the words to know feel the nothing and let the color grow. 

That was all what was written in book , rest of the pages were empty and the last page said Spill what you know.  Not the Gods , but it was something bigger what I always wanted to hear about , the creator. Yes that should be the magic, that shall be the writing on my diary. Sara knew, and I hope I would too .