furqanasad

No gamble is worth anything. That is what i was told. To corpse that lay in fields now grey. The mausoleums empty norms. Whispers fate with airs on graves. The sound of man its end. The little boys and little girls that come together to sing. Will do there harm and harp there hearts and die doing this thing. To you; i write not of pain but of rue. You i have followed every where. To you i have sang and dreamed and cried. You i have found so near. Mortality is jealousy. Death be to the jealous few. For there hearts are warm and nothing will ease there storm. Till dead; to them apply. You i seek in emptiness. The immortal you. The you th

Shall i now write the emptiness. Or fallacy of all. Shall i write the posing props. The pen awaits command. In self i have seen everything. The world to which eyes; began. The fallen in a glance. Lay waste outside the world of dreams. Few that have seen it all. Within me i see destiny. Envy; Pain; Love, Legacy the sword cuts and weeps. To life the abusing friend in need. Shall i write some more memory. To you; behind the clouds. To you; i call. With you; i fall. The tangled vines and mango trees. With fruit the hanging heavens stay. The sinking ships and blurred moons. The skies they lay awake. To you; they all belong my dear. At ease

To desire. To be aware, awake and sharp. See all happen, before the spark. To know. To care, for all that’s pure. Begin with passion; with passion die. To jump into the abyss of miseries. A simple plea this life could be. In all its endless revery. To love. To keep. To feel time. And find it hard to breath. Hope without helplessness. To see within her eyes,the world. To carry all her dreams. To blind yourself of thought. And say not of pain or loss. Decent love were we. To say; we were all i had. To do; we must not lie. For love; your love my ego ends. Yet with each other,we cannot stay. Departed in a wretched way

To memories that were swept away. The gardens burnt to ashes way. We in the realm of habits sway. To time that makes no sense of things. To life which seems meaningless. To actions so often we note. We are but addicts in this world. The white, black, and brown we hosts. Old, mature and younger fools. We hate, debate and calculate. Draw out our swords and hug and kiss. In love, in anger burn our days. Some, light a cigarette and others in there caves; they go. Gapes in our minds, we feel the moment is not something new. Run and hide and dig; in earth we go. Look there, the corners are not vacant anymore. A cruel and evil world, we think is