There is just something about a battered old book that is irresistible. There is a distinct scent that clings to it. It is a scent that makes you think of the good old days. It is a scent that makes you feel lonely. It is a scent that arouses memories. It is a scent that arouses the wanderlust in you. It is a scent that makes you want to at once run wildly and curl up around a warm fire with a cup of hot tea. It is a scent that ah! cannot be described. It can only be felt. It is a shot of pure adrenaline. It is a touch of euphoria. It is confusion. It is…
Nature is a treasure, nature is a blessing and we are too blind to notice its presence, its essence, its heart. The heart of nature beats in us yet we do not feel…
Rainbows arc on the morning sky,
And kiss the blossoms on their feet.
And soaring, soaring they must reach,
The cloud where Beauty sits to greet;
And stopping, resting sing to me…
Man craves eternity of his youth,
A life like Khizr but without virtue;
But he knows not that he lives a dream,
Where Life is a debt to Owner due.
Nothing is true. Everything, every glimpse, holds falsity. The world, its peoples, even life itself submits to imitation. Why? Truth seems so vacant, its features so welcoming, its voice so enchanting yet all things mock and taunt this deep beauty, staining it, making it impure until even truth’s beautiful form becomes a lie…Read more "Truth Is…Truth"
The tree flinched as a cloud of bats crashed against him, startling him. He abhorred bats and everything of night’s kingdom. The nights were always lonely; he could never hear the songs or witness small fights. There was no hustle and bustle, no light just silence and stars in the dark sky witnessing his fear, never speaking, never moving. Night became worse with each minute, darkness darkened, silence increased and his fear heightened. Cold breeze whispered like a ghost in his ear and pale shadows played everywhere in his sight. How could he not be scared?Read more "The Twilight Tree"
Sometimes, it is better to forget…to cast away the years past.Read more "Lost"
It is, no doubt, a thought that knocks the gates of every young writer’s mind that who is he? What is he? Does he even matter or not? The answers to these absurd sounding questions is not as easy to understand as it seems and even if by chance you learn their meaning, you cannot comprehending their stature and enormity…Read more "Who Are You As A Writer?"
Walking on a dark narrow path,
With my head down to the ground,
Eyes swollen, my shattered heart,
From far away I hear some sound;
Eyeing up to the skies I see,
Birds in the air, so full of hilarity,
With their families, and so free,
But I am alone, losing my vivacity.
It was a day that held memories; clear blue sky and the dulcet light of the sun made it all look divine, but no eye looked to the blue sea above or the dulcet sun, for all prospects held in their core some distorted image of a missing purpose, some empty part of life…Read more "The Hollowness"