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Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
You're not born with any religion
But
a pure heart
that only holds
a place
for
God.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
All the great men talk about the wrath of God
but only a few dare to mention His love.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
خدا کے نام پے تو کتنے دشمن بنا کے بیٹھا ہے ؟
.اگر اتنا ہی ہوتا خدا سے پیار تو شاید  تیرے بھی کچھ  دوست ہوتے.


How many enemies have you made in the name of God?
Had you been a true lover, you might have had some friends as well.
It's written in urdu but I have translated it in English as well.
I don't mostly write in urdu language as I am not good at it but sometimes I try.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
Whisper the unknown feelings into my soul
as I'll drown in
the melting glaciers
of my
heart.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
Your body is not just a container for your souls; it is something more than that.
Your body is a place to worship for the saints; it should be clean and pure.
Your body is a hell for the sinners; it should be burning.
Your body is a beautiful memory for the forgotten; it should be colorful.
Your body is a home to the lost; it should be warm and polite.
Your body is a paradise for the messed up; it should be peaceful.
Your body is a fire for the daring; it should be wild.
Your body is a maze for the wanderers; it should be full of wonders.
Your body is a torch for the blind; it should be a guide.


But.


At the end of the day,


Your body is all you have and it should be yours.
As I complete this, I realize that it can have multiple meanings depending on how the reader reads it.

For me, I am the saint, the sinner, the forgotten, the lost, the messed up, the daring, the wanderer and the blind. I am different people within myself at the same time.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
I see the moon as something
more than just a huge ball in the sky.
I see the starts as something
more than just twinkling lights.

They tell me I am a misfit
who sees things differently.
I guess they are the blind ones
trapped in their own bodies.
Javaria Waseem Mar 2015
"Count", I whispered in his ear. "Count till there are no numbers left and your tongue hangs in the mid air to find something to speak. Count till your brain turns numb trying to search numbers to count. Count till you believe that there's no ending, no final destination to reach. Count till you lose yourself in the maze of the never ending numbers
Count because the last number that you'll count will be where you'll meet me."
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