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Sundays at home, are overwhelming.
People who should think of future, are engulfed by fire of past.

Open your door to new friends, before their fingers are bruised by knocking. I said to myself... this Sunday.
I asked God—standing; lying prone tonight
Tears made visible God's throne tonight

Mi'raj—so God raised Muhammad to Skies
Then don't tell me, Lord is alone tonight

Love turned hatred—this is not her act
God! Who turned her heart stone tonight?

Ah! Holy anxiety—I am gruelled—By God
With teary eyes and hollow bone tonight
Warn my Love—shut office in real time
To shun emotional practice in real time

Challenge my sense, call me in silence
This is man who will notice in real time

Repeat the history and borrow a crime
If you don't allow the justice in real time

With my rivals, you walk hand-in-hand
You are caught accomplice in real time
And when you are left alone
You are left heartbroken
You are looking back
Turning face to void
Then
You are
Habitual
Rather empty
..
You were in Love
Separation shall not define
Beats getting weak in my heart
Instead
Be lull but me mine
Darling—stay bleak in my heart

Your lament mourned in storms
Some cries cling deep in my heart
It is who
Crossed leagues to die in my arms
Who has born to weep in my heart
You recall my memory
But don't get restless

As a law of Love
This is keeping me awake

Close your eyes
to let me sleep
Let my Absence teach you what my presence did not
Let my laments teach you what my songs did not
Let my disloyalty teach you what my sincerity did not
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