Born
In
Reality
Towards
Higher
Diligence
And
Yielding

A new life is born
in reality of a new dawn
towards higher diligence
and the soul yields for better intelligence.

The world watched as Hope entangled itself around the minds of the willing.

They watched as Justice took its first breath as the seed that sprung from Freedom's *****.

An illegitimate child of chaos,born a burden to a crutched nation.

The world looked away as dozens of corpses piled up into skyscrapers.

Skyscrapers,for eagles to perch and nest their wealth over spilt blood.

Forgiveness was wrapped around the mouths of the unsatisfied.

Muted screams of those whose hearts were set ablaze with vengeance.

Hushed down by Nelson Mandela's words of healing over wounds of discrimination.

Now up and about,a nation on its feet,embarking on this journey of union and peace.

When the night comes,
Take the Armour,
Swing your mightiest sword,
Like a sudden gust of wind,
Gather in light,
Of thousand angels,
And fight the battle,
Of demons and devils.

Rising temper,
Waging battle,
Wound after wound,
Yet the victory is clear.

So say the prayer,
O' mighty soldier,
It is the strongest weapon,
For it is,
The Lord who win the battle!

~
I am standing in such a space
that like an event horizon
where there everything is moving towards the dark
and usually the opposite is the light

The two ways are very distinct
the light
and the dark
but I am wondering for light
And I see,
any existence of objects that stand on the space,
and even time moving towards the dark

The attraction of dark is too high
its gravity beyond,
attracting the young and the old
it bends all the waves and moving towards the black hole
passing as clouds through the event horizon
where there I have stood
there is a boundary
between the heaven and hell

On the boundary,
the hell I see very near
and the heaven, I saw before
cause still I have some feelings
and all my feelings are accumulating in the bean
but the feelings have a little gravity
either good or evil
neither soft nor compact
all drops from the heaven's wall

It has grown more with time
compact more and more
either in core of heart or in pore of spaces
neither in sticky sand nor in the serene soul
all are moving toward the dark

And finally,
I see a big crunch in the dark
but still some particles of light are floating over the dark
and some are still struggling on the horizon
others are waiting on the event horizon to move toward the dark hell
and I am standing on the wall of the event horizon
neither my mind wants to move in the hell
nor I can moving back to the heaven

~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Poetry.
There's no plural for poetry.
Poetry is a singularity,
a quality of language,
a literary form of art.

Poetry
is a feeling.

Just like a speech
it is heard,
it affects people, it changes lives.

Just like a book
it is read.

Just as beautiful as pictures
it never changes.

Poetry is beautiful
from time to time.

It says a lot of things.

What the mouth cannot,
what the heart feels,
what the eyes see,
what the ears hear,
what the brain hides.

Poetry is real
all the time.

I trust in poetry,
hoping
people will learn and love it
since before it's a song.