Each individual has his/her own story waiting to be told. Having said this, let me share a wonderful piece of writing being written and shared by one of my good friends named Sidra Jafri. Read on.......
Stained glass windows
an orange sunset,
rain-puddles,
brooding over faces,
unspent lives and knotted dreams.
I walk past-blue shawls,
ritual regrets, burnt-out stars
clouded love and an astronomical hope.
Drawing out the wavering circles
of memory around the edges,
but each loss is final and
every death vibrancy of many expectations.
Shadows of love come circling back
laughter that went up in flames
but silence is my alter ego.
And the nights doesnot count my dead stars
and your matrix of joy.
There is darkness in this night
which will not melt.
It is silent, it is stone.
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