No Life Span For Love And Dreams
We're aware
We're aware that between us there's
A haze of ignorance
Our steps but tread the path of our search
But can't see their goal
Much more exquisite and radiant
Than my poems is your inner self
And my eye-glasses are getting thicker every day
Do you know
Why poems and stories become wordless
Trying to poetise us?
They want to know our birth date
The place we were born
And our present age.
What do they know?
Dreams are neither born
Nor ever they die
No register enters their birth statistics
I just don't know
At what point of time did you learn to take your first steps
Holding the dream's little finger
I indeed am that dream
Which no one has never seen
I had died verily the same day
When my father had kicked my mother on her stomach
But I continued to grow inside my grave
Grew so much that
My mother could see me without bending
Once I dropped my camera and broke it
While taking some body's picture
Only then I came to know
Why dreams become utterly black in daylight
Why it's important to have
a dark liquid to expose them
I didn't know that light can be seen only in darkness
We're indeed not what we seem to be
There's some one else in our place
Wearing our costume
Flowing water has no shape
Shapes are but in our eyes
And to see a dream
One doesn't need sleep - but eyes
From protozoan to a human being
The sleep of bilions of evolutionary years
Is but an interval for opening his eyes
Love is the intervening space between life and death
And we use the yardstick of one life span to measure it
And go through a mesquerade of living
[...] Read more
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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