What do you see with your eyes closed? What do you see in a foggy morning? What do you feel in sleep? What is written on the moon? What does a goat think when she is alone? Where does the water go, where does it come from? Why does the thunder follow the lightening? Why does it rain? Why do we breathe? Why do you have to live?
These all questions have answers that I don’t want.
Teenage musings… change my life. Please.
Why does that star shine? What is God? Why is He? Why do these tears trickle down? Why do they stream? Why does it hurt right in the middle of my heart? Why do I love you? Why don’t you love me back? Why it has to be like this? Why not like that?
Possibilities are every where, spread all over –– more than dirt-grains in a dingy cemetery, more than the stars in the sky in a clear night from the highest point, more than all the flowers, from this corner to that corner of this planet. She tells ––– I listen.
Why does she tell me every time…? Dare I ask you something? She always tells me to dare? Why? I ask this time… She is speechless… She is still ––– motionless ––– still. I know she won’t talk –– answer.
I am the fickle existence ––– like weather.
Say something. Change my life. Please.
I beg, I moan.
I want this cliché to become a surprising event.
7 comments:
very deep ! good work
Hey there :) Thank you for the comment!
Don't mention it :)
Oh God!!! even your prose has poetic charms in it :D you write really well . (:
@pH :)
@Xehra! Hey! Thank you so much, I'm grateful :) and yeah it is my habit being poetic all the time, sort of. haha. :P
loved the entire post but this part is something i'm reading again n again!
Possibilities are every where, spread all over –– more than dirt-grains in a dingy cemetery, more than the stars in the sky in a clear night from the highest point, more than all the flowers, from this corner to that corner of this planet. She tells ––– I listen.
(:
Thanks a bundle Shagufta :)
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