I have been thinking of resuming writing for quite some time now and today I finally mustered up the courage to visit the 'create post' page of my blog. I feel a certain anxiety knocking down my senses at the moment. Writing used to come so naturally once and now it comes with effort. What is good about it is that it is still has not abandoned me altogether. Like old friends, who have all gone about their ways, it still, at times, comes back and reminds me of the connection we once shared. All good things eventually come to an end - I just hope that does not happen with me and writing, at least not until this transient life comes to an end... What prompted me to write down this post after such a long time is my recent meeting with one of my teachers, with whom I had absolutely lost contact during the last five years. Life is very demanding. Its phases, very complicated. The responsibilities it encumbers us with, endless... زندگی تیرے تعاقب میں یہ لوگ اتنا چلتے ہی...
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:'(
Unable are those – who own the abilities
They know no direction – nor about the star
They know mere walking – as journey afar
Knowers are those who know door a wall
Those who don’t know – know wall a door
What shall I call wingless? When I own wings
These winged know only wings the wings
Who shall ever know the forlornness I suffered?
But only those who know an ocean drop a pearl
This verse which – has been written as blank verse
Would be understood by those – who know verses
– In blurry mystique