Preamble Of My Death Note

You know some people, they are like barren land. Vast, sorrowful, grieved. The mud that forms their skin loses life and gains the gloom of empty, fruitless desert. They breath dry mud. Instead of blood, they have misery flowing through their veins. Barren land and barren people, both are hopeless. Unwanted.

When rain falls down on them for an instant, it gives birth to hope. A dangerous feeling it is. It kills with the most blunt knife ever. Hallucinate you with dreams and then break these with it’s own fist, into your eyes. The shards of glass cut through the eyeballs, blood falls drop by drop, for centuries. Yes centuries.

May be if hope wasn’t there at the first place, life would have been smooth. It is easy to develop habits and live by these, whether of painful moments or living forever in the dark. It is simple to go with the flow, with no flowers and sunshine, if one hasn’t EVER seen flowers and sunshine. Going back after taking a long journey is tiring. Really tiring.

Have you ever experienced the torture, when your fingers cry and eyes can’t ? When your heart yearns to vomit out pain but your eyes, they don’t let it no matter how much that sting. No matter how much your mere existence pricks you like a thorn. No matter how much you want to put a pistol on your head and shoot without any pause, but you can’t. You just can’t.

You feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. Rain falls from the sky but leaves you dry. Green leaves of spring turns to yellowish orange ones of autumn around you. Chilly winds suffocate you. You can’t breathe. In that moment, no one knows how much, HOW MUCH you want to close your eyes and die in peace.

But you can’t. You just can’t.

‘Ishq’

As drops of summer rain plows her barren land of heart

Desire of ‘Wisaal‘ sprouts; years of ‘Separation‘ cut apart

Renunciation of will, ecstatic pain of love’s desire grows

With the light of ‘Irfan‘, ruptured veins of her soul glows

‘Self‘ is abandoned; dew of ‘love‘ turns her dust into mud

From the very bosom of self, arises the scent of beloved

This tightly coiled fire of love is neither requited nor denied

Conventional ‘wisdom‘ reverses, ‘Junoon‘ cries out with pride

Shackles of ‘reason‘ are broken, It’s wise lectures are declined

Wish to become dust of His feet echoes in her oblivious mind

Then crushed soul leaves the body, far away from time and space

It becomes One with beloved while ‘Nafs‘ drowns in His grace

Human unites with God, Divine unites with Man; a bridge is done

Rhythm in the cry of ‘Hu‘ merges with the melody of ultimate One !

Secrets are unveiled, paradoxes solved, mystical assent completes

Levels of ‘Ishq‘ conquered, Mortality and immortality finally meets

Annihilation, ‘Fan’a‘; Death is all left behind, nothing to be afraid

Contentment in non-existence, euphoria from the death of blade.

(Wisaal:Reunite, Irfan:theological philosophy which seeks to describe being, Junoon:Madness, Nafs:Ego,  Hu: Sound that imprint marks on heart, part of Allah’s name, Fan’a: Ultimate destruction)

 

This poem is dedicated to all the lovers of Allah, experiencing Ishq-e-haqiqui. Love is just a primary stage in the journey of Ishq. I have tried to explain all the levels of Ishq in my poem, through which one passes to reach the ultimate level, the level of death. May Allah blesses us with His Ishq.

Moon, Moon on the sky…….Watch Me Die

“Moon, Moon on the sky,

Hold me up, take me high

Clench your sigh, watch me die”

A morbid smile conquered her calm face. Calmness that escalates after a big storm passes, or when one is about to come.

“Have you ever talked to the moon?” Without glancing at me nodding head in negation, she continued.

“I have, It is my only companion since I was 5. It was my hero, a mysterious bewitching radiant ball of light. I played with it, told my secrets to it and slept in it’s shadow. And then…. and then it started playing with me” Her voice turned quivery.

“I got tangled up in it’s myth. In the full moon nights I feel supernatural. A nice sharp feeling starts cutting inside me and my hollowness grows. Instead of blood, loneliness comes out and I swear, It is more horrendous,  dreadful. It pierces my soul….It aches, It hurts !”  I felt tears mixing with her voice.

“Today’s a full moon night” I thought to myself. Shifting my eyes from the moon towards her, I realized – She was gone.

A werewolf was standing right beside me.

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A post written in response to Daily Prompt: Heroic and also for Five Sentence Fiction – Moon.

Black Magic ?

People imply that it was

Black magic

that ate her up

like worms eat up the woods.

She was transformed

From an elegant glowing beauty

To

an awful filthy mess.

She had flesh on her bones

but no impulse.

Like a lifeless corpse

her face turned pale black,

her soul departed her body

taking away the shine

in her eyes.

She was Dead for

the world.

No one knew, except me;

she was bitten by ‘Life’

And I swear

I heard her silent breaths !!

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Thank you 🙂

A post written in response to Daily Prompt: Do you Believe in Magic?

Image credits: VUsolutions.com.