Seeker Poet

An irresistible fatigue comes up again and again, before the end of the day till the beginning of the dawn. Surpassing it is the greatest delight, because when it ends, i meet myself. Face of my soul, Not the eyes i wear, Not the lips i smile with. I swim languidly enjoying each and every sight, listening to all the chirps dissolved in the wind. I fly aimlessly in the far end sky, with the soul-intention of going beyond everywhere i pass. It's the time when i don't belong to the chains and prisons, it's the time when i stay in the refuge that can't be pierced. I fly and fly and swim in the universe, unknown into the uncertain. But as there's a beginning, there's an end, Similarly, As there's a journey there's also a bend. I fly into the unknown until i sense the fright, the fright sown by myself, in the garden of mind. The garden that turned into a demon, Comes home without invitation, It serves doubts and regrets, fear...

At the usual time Of the midnight hour, When Zephyrus gave company And played me the lyre, I felt there silence Where I've been for long, Where screams accompanied Of the fake illusion thoughts, It's time when i feel the touch; The direction where anemoi flows, Earlier what i felt as a stream Of a hot wave or a chilling breeze, It's time when i am right here Sitting in the hallway of universe, Where i don't go out of me To bring in what's not mine, I am here in reality once again Where it leads and exists, Listening to the Zephyrus' lyre Rattling the leaves tenderly. © Mohammad Shahnawaz 2015

Tired of searching reasons, Of why i am here and there, Time's fading away like seasons, It seems like, it needs care, I wish to go along unconscious, Or go in a mystic high, I wish to go a bit reckless, To live like never meant to die, I wish to see those mountains, To seek the distant lands, To drink from all those fountains, To quench my thirsty glands, The fire's burning still, Although it's been ash bound, It's time that fear faces kill, It's time to take the ground. Silence has taken the hold, Unlike one with calm and peace, Have to write a rhythm in bold, To go through the valley with ease. © Mohammad Shahnawaz 2015