This one's for you.

The God of the east, and the God of the west

The God of the kings, the God of the best

The God of the blossoms, the God of a rose

The God of the hidden and of the exposed

The God of the colours that paint a sunrise

The God of a fluttering butterfly

The God of beauty that's too good to be true

Is the God that created someone like You.

The God in the heavens, the God that's above

Is the God that created a thing like love

The God that sculpted the land and the sea

Is the God that will listen to you and to me

And if you'd like hope, and hope that is true,

then, by God, this one's for you.

We're not so different, You & I,

Cocooned in all our fears;

We bleed from skin, with blood & all

and we cry our cries with tears. 

out in the sun, no sign of shade,

let me fade please

let me fade 

I would've spent my life listening, (and once it seemed like hell)

to the weary afternoon lecture

just before the bell 

And it's seems almost too foolish, (cue the tear in eye) 

To cry over a smile

To laugh over a cry 

To stand in wake of footprints (that you left over my soul)

trying to fill the emptiness

that's like a gaping hole

In memory of you (although you have left too fast)

Once in a while, when I think of you,

I'll try waltzing with the past 

And I would've spent my life listening, (and once it seemed like hell)

to the weary afternoon lecture

just before the bell 

Edge of sunshine.

Like a broken vow of a promised toy,

There lies a soul that life destroyed. 

On the very edge of sunshine.

Blinded by love, in love with the dark,

Can't see the stranger that you are,

On the very edge of sunshine.

I like your silhouette in the distant light,

I can make of you what contents my mind,

On the very edge of sunshine. 

This strife is for you, but belongs to me,

And I'm alone in this painful ecstasy,

On the very edge of sunshine. 

(Inspired by the title of Dhup Kinarey.)

Let me uncloak the anonymity of all your hidden smiles,

Let me explore the universe you've lived in, all this while. 

Let me tread on broken pieces that you love too much to fix,

And hold on to the words you speak, that leave me still transfixed.

If there's a veil hiding you, lift it so I can see,

If you're locked up in your heart & soul, let me set you free.

A letter to No One.

Dear You,

It is like someone has turned off all the lights and I feel hundreds, thousands of hands and feet, pushing and stumbling over one another trying to find their way first.

So many people, so many tears, so many smiles. It's all just one big, chaos of being human. An outburst, a comforting word, a fierce look in the eye; practically everything pieced together by our own want of attention, and of love. Somewhere in the world a toddler is taking his first step and another infant dying before he's born. Somewhere out there someone is weeping uncontrollably and yet again, someone who can't stop laughing.

The world is so spontaneous in all it's being. And everywhere I look, I see a piece of me. I see it through my eyes - find a way to embrace the pain I see or the laughter I hear, whether it is by ignoring it or by minute inspection.

I wonder if leaves and petals and withered roses have a world of their own. Where they ache in the dark to the Sun again. And the night falls in it's appointed time without fail, and they all brave the darkness maybe tangling their leaves and branches for a sense of togetherness, but alone and individual on their own. Together, but alone.

When the rain drops start to fall on the windshield of the car, there is either an echo of delight or disdain. Because you're either wanting the rain or have grown tired of it. And rain is rain, but I can look at it from the perspective I choose.

And despite the magnitude of Life itself, I'm going to sit here and spend my evening doing homework.

Thanks for listening.

Too caught up in my own thoughts,
Me.

Ephemeral words for you are too ordinary,

The idea of an imperfect poem for you is completely dreary,

Pages and pages, books and books, will cause me to be weary,

But, Y-O-U: just three letters will suffice  - to the quite contrary.

A letter to No One.

Dear You,

I'm confused. I hope I don't lose my way trying to find myself.

Every human that ever lived was a hero, because if life was a person, I'd block her off my facebook.

Love,
Me. 

A letter to No One.

Dear You,

Today was one of those days when you are so tired that even your little toes hurt but you still want time to stand still, just for a little while. The way back from a lovely little endeavour is always the hardest because you know you're leaving all those smiles and laughter and memories behind in that little hut by the seaside. That is why I was proud to hold a little, pink machine in my hand that does a great job at attempting to store moments that I can look back to and convince myself that sometime, somewhere some people smiled.

Being the unofficial photographer of such events is always such an honour. There's always some candid shots that turn out to be the best opportunities for reflection afterwards. Especially a shot of the twinkling eyes of a smiling baby boy or girl.

The hut was at a height, so we had to go down to be near the sea. The climb itself was preposterous. We climbed down and the water innocently started touching our feet again and again. Then all of a sudden, a really big wave came and almost knocked me off my feet. Then I just kind off clung to the wall while the water rushed around me and I felt so stranded that I became afraid of the water. I panicked and went back up. And then I wondered, what are we? What do we think of ourselves when God could knock us off our feet by something as simple and unique as water? So many thankyou's are in order.

The tides were high in the morning. The little kids were not allowed to go near the sea then. So their mom went down to scoop up some sand for them so that they could start building a castle. It was endearing to see her bent towards the ground like that filling the bucket with sand for her children. What can compare to such love?

Do you know what my favourite part of the day was? It was when my brother was going to climb down to go near the sea again and he asked me if I wanted to come. I said no, that I was afraid. He said, "Come on! Just for a little while!" And even though I said no again and he made his way downwards, in that moment I saw the reflection of the boy that I always see in my favourite home video, carrying the 5-year-old me and kissing me roughly on the top of my head while I am sound asleep. That boy went abroad to complete his education and I miss him so dearly. The boy is a man now.

My other favourite part was when everything suddenly seemed to stop because it was time for Zuhr prayers and everyone stood in prayer forgetting what ever that they were doing. It made me realize how lucky I am to be part of a faith that connects you to God whenever and wherever. Also, the bus ride hilarity is still making me smile.

The rest of the day is a blur of really loud voices, all the fooling around that we were doing, the sounds of all the boys playing cricket, extremely loud laughter, irrelevant, hilarious jokes, Fariah baji's sandcastle, me finally overcoming my fear and letting the sea wash my feet, images of the people I love riding on a camel and horses, Zain's adorable smiles, the kids' commotions, halwa puri and Biryani, loud singing voices, the roar of the sea and the moss that was gathering on the rocks.

I had a wonderful day. I hope people have opportunities to feel this wonderful. Today, I feel infinitely blessed.

Love,

Me. 

A letter to No One.

Dear You,

The world is alive. I see it when I drive by birds gliding over green fields, soaring into a distant horizon until they disappear. I feel it when I slip into my covers at night and take turns reciting poetry with my sister. I hear it when I see blades of grass dancing to the rhythm of the song in my head.

I feel like I am chasing things that are moving faster than me. It's like a string of pearls let loose across the floor, scattering everywhere and I haste and I haste to string them back in time. But what am I chasing? What am I dying to hold on to forever? Maybe it's the feel of able limbs and this black hair pulled back by a hairband; the feel of being fifteen.

My mind wanders to the strangest of places in the strangest of times. Sometimes I am in a place entirely different than the one I'm really at. Again and again, the same train of thoughts and every time I find new solace in them. Is this madness? I wonder if I look dull and despondent when the fiercest of thoughts lace together inside my brain. My mind would be a strange place to be.

Today my brain was a boiling pot of all this nonsense. The littlest of things were making me ache for someone to point them out to. Like the amusing amount of "Thankyou's" and "Sorry's" I said during the day. And the flavour of the juice I bought.

I found something very strange today. The girl in front of me at the auditorium was exclaiming at the fact that they'd mentioned a gay couple in the play. (The teacher cut out that part altogether because she was knowing of "worrying" parents, although she seemed irritated that she had to do that.) She couldn't speak the word "gay". My friend said it out loud for her.

And, lastly, I wonder if we get so busy sometimes thinking of the faults in other people that we forget to correct our own. Everybody slips from time to time, but I'd like to never fall the same fall again.

Thanks for listening.

Exhausted by an ordinary day,

Me.

Dear you,

I wonder if you know about yourself. I have way too much time on my hands to spend it scrolling down pages and reading your words again and again. I enjoy it too much.

Your pain is real and raw. Your words are ironic and have evolved from what you feel. And your honesty makes me envy you. Everything about you makes you wonderful.

The words you craft imprint somewhere in my mind. Once in a while a memory comes back and I smile. Even the ordinary ones have far too much meaning behind them. It makes you special.

Please never stop being so honest with your words because that's what makes them enchanting. You are real. And you're special.

Best of all, you're a great friend. The best I've ever had.

Love,
Ashypoo.

I cannot stay, I lost my way,
Bleeding words you cannot read
Hoping you'll hear silent pleas,
time to time and night and day.

You'll find me in a enclosed space,
I sway and dance to my own songs,
Free until you come along,
And then it's time for a facade.

No more, no more, I cannot stand,
Giving thought to others' thoughts,
I've wanted pleasure & done alot
but I am my own person in this land.

Think what you want to think,
But you can't see what my eyes see,
Opinionated as you may be
my sanity is on the brink.

Dear You,

Misery taunts. Sometimes it seems like it is far too much to bear. A fruitful tree is bent towards the ground as if it is carrying a burden. So if this is a burden, you are a tree laden with fruitfulness.

My friend said that life is ironic. That pleasure is bitter and pain is sweet.

Life goes on, even as tides of haunting sadness splash on your shore. Maybe they splash so loudly to make you forget that, in the end, every tide has it's ebb.

Everyone says it's going to be okay. But it's okay not be okay. I think about my favourite books & they're falling apart & forlorn. And the stains on each page and each tear takes me back to a memory I don't want to forget. They're falling apart, but they're my favourite.

Here, take my heart. Take my thoughts & all my prayers. Give me a smile in return. A real one. A smile that screams that you're going to sculpt this nonsense into goodness.

Because right now, at this very moment, you are where God intended you to be. So have faith.

Forever hopeful,

Me.

I wonder if it's important to suffice for yourself. Because sometimes, it feels like my happiness, my pride and especially any anguish is all for myself. You may see reflections of it in the mirror of my words or actions but you can't see the phenomena of all my thoughts, cluttered inside a brain that hardly has space for it all.

It's okay to feel wonderful. About yourself, about who ever you were or who you're going to be. It's okay to look in the mirror and smile because your sister says that your nose looks like a pea is resting on it's tip. It's okay to like your laugh because it looks exactly like Ammi. It's okay to feel beautiful when you look upto a pair of eyes staring at you and then looking hurriedly away as soon as you meet their gaze.

I would never want to be vain. I am stitched together by imperfections. My pony tail is always a little too tight and my clothes a little too big. But they make me. And I am my own companion. I am going to be the only one there for myself when there's no one around to lend a ear. Then, I think, it is not too bad to think of yourself as enough. Enough for whatever you are meant to be.

People say beauty is skin deep. That people are beautiful from the insides more than the outsides. But people are who they are for alot of different reasons. You can't recognize anyone as good or bad, or what they show you. They are alot of different things within themselves, just like I am. I don't think anyone could describe themselves completely even if they took a lifetime. So then, maybe we're all everything in our own selves. A complex mix of everything and something and nothing at all. But the thing is, we are so many things. And that is why I am enough. In all my lifetime, I will walk towards my ultimate destination being alot of different things, but somehow, still managing to stay human, to stay myself.

So then that leaves you with yourself and the One who made you. And so I have God and I have myself. I have myself to craft, to make, to sculpt. And it is a work for entirely myself. I'm going to be okay.

Dear You,
Pitter patter, pitter patter. A strand of loose hair dances in the breeze. The splash of a car roaring through the flooded streets sounds through my window. Someone's out of tune, joyous humming floats in.
Your lost spirit prances across my consciousness. A freedom within the prison of your wonderful scents and sounds.
Thunder. Listen, it's voicing out everything that I am afraid to say.
I love you like the rhythm of the rain.
Lost in my own thoughts,
Me. 

Haha, wise words from Sarah Khan. =) I miss Yumna, Sofia & Leena and their American-ness. :D Ahaha, I miss going crazy with themmm!!! And Ali bhaii and his laptopp. =p And standing on the rooftop on the marble table, and the "I saw a girl, with her eyes full of sorrow, I told her to go away, and come back tomorrowwww."  and Lubna mamee and her MashaÁllahhh, Insha'Allaaahh s. :D AND ZUZUU BABY. <3 Gosh, this summer was the most amazing I've ever had! =) <3 

This is what I do when I'm ill and I skip college. :D 

This is very, very oddly comforting. :) UMMM. IDK DUDE.

What do you call the "I don't know you" moments? I call them the "I don't know you" moments...obviously. But, seriously. You hear their voice and suddenly there's this one moment where it sounds unfamiliar, strange. Just for a split second it feels like you don't know them. The sound, the face, the actions, you don't know anything anymore. And after a split second, it all goes away. But then you think why you ever felt the disconnection.

It's wrong. It's wrong to attach yourself to a person so much. I know it is. But you THINK you know them, and boom, you realize you don't. Not one bit. It's not sad, it's not despondent and it's nothing to get upset over, really. And it's like that, right now. Is this acceptance of some sort? If it is, I think I need it? I don't really know. I hope this is going somewhere that I kinda like.

Unsung Songs.

Melodies are bleeding from all the silver linings -

Raining on and on, on a colossal ground of hope.

Never letting go of the train of thoughts that's travelling on broken tracks,

wearied out, dismantling from the passion of these thoughts.

Insecure and unaware, lyrics of a heart evolve.

A sight of a distant horizon, triggers the words again

and again and again, to be vocalized and harmonized -

to celebrate a budding hope, in midst of dark & dull.

Suffocated and strangled, the silence grows so loud.

Encircling harmonies harass the intense longing,

to not care about what other ears will hear.

And where I lie is infinitely choked

By all my unsung songs.

Listen to the quietude of all my unsung songs.

Eid!