.
Behind the depression of discarded Love,
The land that was once again called rain,
When the ethereal whispered
The day turned again,
Thousands of purple flowers play on that land
With all-colours of butterflies,
Insight eyes grow,
The eyes stop
Dreams run parallel to the path,
A spring of strangely unexplored wind in the afternoon
Seeing the strange behaviour of Fong
Somehow alone you walk through the lane on the shore of the river

Certainly, the melody comes out,
Cradling with the known and the unknown
Want to get back to one turn,
Light and shadow in the game,
The pages are painted in colour,
Again, in the midst of different forms,
In search of her shape,
Towards the illusions of the dream,
In the songs of flowers and leaves,
In one of the magical forms of poem

Where to get lost, no one can stop the dam,
If lost, all is returned,
Then if anyone in the dream calls
And if you wake up
In the dark of the darkness, it is easy to forget yourself
Feeling faded to swell,
Comes out of the poem of great form,
Where the beauty of love is inaccessible
And poetry covers the wide-ranging sky,
An endless loving-laden night,
Whose unimaginable unknowingly unmarked path
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen
5th April,2018

.
Cut me loose

     from these strings

          that bind.


So I might again

     exercise the freedom

          of mind.

.

One is never weakest
     when they think they  

have fallen.

But one must show that
every footstep  is a motion
                 to rise.


Proving  that no matter
the steps we fall down.


There are always fresh ones
                untrodden,

that will let us climb higher


            than before.

We cant undo
what has
     Already been expelled.


Never can we
catch a breath,
      That was breathed before.

Learn that every
exhale
   Has meaning.

And we only have
         So many,

let every single one count
      For something.

How you make me feel?
You make me feel
like the sun rises just for me
like the wind whispers in my ear
"I love you"

You make my heart
race so fast
with every word
and it almost stops
at the end of line

And I'm afraid
that one day
there'll be just blank page
in a box
with your name.