No, its not music.
Its my pieces who collide,
tirelessly inside.
And fall down.
No, its no poetry.
Its my pieces who shout,
voicelessly shriek out.
And fall down.
Pick up my pieces.
'The Abode',as the dictionary says is a housing that someone is living in, your residence. I tend to question my childhood dream of an Abode-my small and happy world. "Do i really want a residence where my travel would cease and i would get settled?" "Does such an abode actually exist?" "IF MY JOURNEY DEPRIVES ME OF 'MY ABODE', I HAVE NO REGRETS!!"
Bagh-e-Bahisht Se Mujhe Hukam-e-Safar Diya Tha Kyun Kaar-e-Jahan Daraz Hai, Ab Mera Intezar Kar - Mohammad...
Oh, Beautiful! I can feel that churning within.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteThe one who can see those pieces is the only one who can fix them, isn't it?
ReplyDeletevery true...
Delete