Why there is always so quietness after every destruction? From the time of the first human on Earth till now. Whether it is some miry ocean or some sandy desert. Whenever humanity weeps the whole atmosphere seems to accompany as if they feel the same feel as humans. Why people feel bliss in the air when they are happy and utter wretchedness when they are wretched inside? A person who has unfortunately got an ax is in depression. Sitting in his room, the same walls and ceiling of his room that used to make him feel so protected are now encroaching him. Things seem to have been changed frustratingly. I often ask myself ‘’why is it so?'' Is it only the inner tension of a depressed person in the eye of which the whole world appears overwrought? Or there is something else behind it? Do the non-living are able to feel the wretchedness of the hour? Ah! Definitely, they can’t. They are NON-LIVING. Then the memory of my hearing hit it off. Now let me make you repeat what you read ‘’The waves of the sounds leave their imprints on the walls” I heard this sentence about six or seven years ago. The essence of this line has always remained food for my thought. Now I could relate it to my question why is that so? Whenever we’re depressed and couldn’t find peace anywhere. It means that whatever happened to us has also left its imprints on our surroundings. According to research, the activities of human beings leave their impact on these plants. Here I’m not talking about those deforestation-oriented activities. It is all about those human activities in which humans don’t psychically hurt the plants yet they do. How? Let's take an example, the wicked behavior of human beings nowadays from murdering each other to killing and backbiting. In essence,  immoral activities of us whether they are too minor to ignore or too awful to be punished leave an impact on our surroundings. And this effect is definitely worse. These plants and trees suffer (psychologically) from what we do, and they respire the same toxicity that is making our environment too restless to have peace in. Imagine how much and how many times a day we smack our environment as for me there goes not a single minute in which no one in a town isn’t saying any evil. A single word of evil coming out of a man’s mouth costs blighting the whole atmosphere. Isn’t it strange that we are infecting our environment and in return exacting it to sustain its harmony and a cause of peace for us?

Silence of Words

Maybe the tear wanted not to be fallen
Maybe the joy wanted not to be popped
Maybe the day wanted not to be blued
Maybe the breath wanted not to be felt
Maybe the lids wanted not to be blinded...

Maybe the thoughts wanted not to be inked

The mystery

Each thought holds

Maybe the mystery wanted not to be solved

But neither they’re solved

Nor they could be

Maybe the mystery wanted not to reveal

The hollow mysteries that dwell in it! 

Portrait of a Man in Red Chalk

A network of tangled veins buried under wearily sculptured visage pulling and grasping the sages of bygone years. A fountain up roaring and thundering underneath the naked sky visited seldom by some skulls, pulling and grasping. A drop of water sprinkled on many a year parched sand, dropped and drank in no instance to its thirstiness, pulling and grasping.  A hearth of clay into it fire burning into ashes, flames and continues, whereupon the clay reluctant to burning procession instead, blossoming its coldness and shine; pulling and grasping.  Those eyes, the eyes of thousands; those eyes, the eyes of none. Those high elevated check bones steeping deep and away out of the dents of the skies and the moons. Those tenacious brown balls built farther and deeper within their separate pale meadows. Those parched lines bulging out of every single brick, completely perpetuated and accomplished, concealing in every possible expression if it would've ever  touched its chateau of antiquity.  

Ode to the Morning Star

                                               Ode to the Morning Star

The night was fading all

The dawn was prevailing all

The pond was all hushing

The water therein was all numb

The sky was all serene

The jungle was all blind

The pool was all thirsty

To the sun, waiting for some  

A duck swimming down the sky

Synching with tranquility of the nature

Like a cotton bud floating in the air

Therein, Quite alone; quiet and alone

Far away from the woods, there were

Fidgety hoofs grounding the ground

Faster and faster with the flying span

A horse ridden man, an untamed himself 

The little silver statue resting

Quiet in the pond broke into  

The perpetual silence as

The water splashes on parched sand  

''Hail Hail Hail!

Poor me, the poor creature like me

Whose meager eyes are never ignored!

Of the beauty that dwells’ in you

Since the time when

these feeble minds & bones were

too weak to protect me

& to survive in this miserable world

Since the time I was a fiddling   

& my nerves used to be weak

Too weak to withstand with

The novel world; the grim; the regrettable

   

Oh, the Morning Star!

For why oughtn’t I praise you

For which else has the sparkle

Like the one, I behold in you ''

The untamed tamer began

In his infernal wrath & naïve eyes,

 What else world could’ve appeared to him

But a palace of crystal__blind poles; greed collapse

''Sunrises; fortune falls

Who says there is a way My Lord?

Suffered I born; suffered I lived

So it is; so will be forever

The warbler yells each hour

''The most dark exhales; the most light out

 where the stars shine for those;

who work devoid of consoles’’

Nay, never they yield no shine to me   

Nay, never I got no glee from them

For what heal could they bring to me?

Broken they’d be called__ poor destiny!

Rich men, satiated, glee all around

Glimpse nature, hey ho, jump all around

Nature shot good omens to satiated ones

Cursed heads like I, left shrieking all around ’’

 The air cycle wrapp’d with hollers

Crafts its way where the silver statue

Sensed the sting of hast and gluttony    

Begun to sing his versatile rather rapt chime 

‘’Thy lord! Bestow my voice with the zeal

So it can be heard in clatter of the World

My words might not become the conqueror

Help me make them among the battalions

''Beauty lies nowhere;

Nowhere but wherein the eyes of perceiver

Hope resides nowhere;

Nowhere but therein the heart of a believer 

Did the artistry of GOD ever suffer?

By the ignorance of those who being

able to see & hear nothing through

Bar the allure of surface __ the mortal surface!

Thou man! Who else it was except you

Who made himself deaf of the message

That beckons to you from the yonder edge

For eyes that are ignorant; the soul shall bear

   

Forever__  forever __ and forever! ''