Is it my fault,
or is it theirs;
are they my culprit,
or the culprit am i;
friendship is above love;
did they not understand,
or couldn’t i…

My fate, you played
such games with me
left me alone;
accept,though i,
no regrets within me lie…

An angel,free to fly,
I thought,was i;
no cage, i saw,
no boundaries;
how was i supposed
to know,
nothing material
to curb my thoughts,
this world,
was my limit….

Broke,am i;
yet, i do smile
no right do my culprits,
have to know
what changed within me,
what believes they killed….

He says, I will survive,
I will smile;
my beliefs would rise,
like a phoenix,
my world would be mine;
i trust him not;
he knows not,
I’m charred within….

My inner me speaks,
wish he could be right;
wish this pain
would subside
I wish to move on,
Wish me luck,
hold my hand,
may i not fall,
this time….

-Ashk

The best ever poetry
ever created,
is the night itself…

The most melodious song
sung ever,
is the night itself…..

Night has been my mistress. She has captivated me,enchanted me and to be perfectly honest, has completely mesmerized me.It is a vision beyond normal, a dream beyond realism.The beauty and the augustness of the mystical sand that falls over the planet at night, is a rhythm deeper than one can ever listen or feel.

The deepest revelations of one’s soul and heart are done in the sacred silence of the night.The very smell of the grass covered with dew,as it strikes the senses,opens up a sequence of memories that run through the mind.The seductress approach of the night in the chill of the winter plays a million images in the mind.The illusions created by the solemn nights of autumn is a dream in itself.

My captivation of night, in particular, dates back to the times of childhood.Those nights, when lying on the bed, i used to stare at the starry sky, and wonder about the limits of one’s dreams.The sweet stupid games played with my mates, making identifiable shapes out of the millions of bright spots that covered that night sky.

The charm of night never has diminished.The essence has taken different shapes, though, just like those stars which used to be at different places, each night.Days have slipped, and so have the nights.The sky,the stars,the moon,the silvery dust still remain the same. What has changed is me,my thoughts,my dreams,my vision.Still the enchantment remains the same.

Still night remains my sacred sanctum sanctorum.The time when i am what i am.The place where i fear none,where i live my dreams,where i fret and cry.The time when i sew my soul and dip it in the holy drape of silver dust and transmute into the original me.The time when an insomniac dreams…….

I fight a stranger,
There’s an i within me,
whom i don’t know…
Never met him,
but he’s there…

Silent,queer,
like a drop of dew,
Nascent…
Reflection of me
that doesn’t resemble me,
is the stranger whom i fight…

The stranger sings
songs of life,
The picture of sunrise
can his eyes paint,
even through
the darkest of nights…

The optimist within me
dares to dream,
innocent his thoughts,
The stranger within me…..

The stranger fears no foe,
but friends…
Silence his only weakness,
Loneliness his only strength…

His only companion is time,
the force he fears
beyond thee and life….
An unread book
is the stranger within me…..

How i see him??
I don’t!
He’s a feeling,
an emotion,
a solitary soul….
Only mistake he cries for,
is the love that was true,
Killed,
for reasons he hides….

I know not much of this stranger
whom i fight….
Yet i know so much,
to know that he’s alive….

The stranger i fight,
is no stranger at all
The stranger is “I”….

Ashk