Shaam ka ek kinara tha, aanchal ki oot me Sharma rha tha
Dhoop ki gunguni yaadon ko seene me liye, raat ke kajal se sajaa rha tha
Shaam ka ek kinara tha, aahista se kuch suna rha tha, geeton ki maanon aahat liye chala jaa rha tha
Shaam ka ek kinara tha….kuch aahiste se kahe jaa rha tha
Shaam ka vo kinara tha, kehne ki faryaad me rukka jaa rha tha
Shaam ka koi kinara tha, shayad yaadon ki aahat ka kissa liye chala jaa rha tha
Shaam ka vo kinara tha, ehsaas ki aahat ka ek hissa liye aankhon me geet bana rha tha
Shaam ka koi kinara tha, kuch kehne naa kehne ki kashmkash liye chala jaa rha tha
Shaam ka ek kinara tha, sunehri si ek subah ka ehsaas liye jaa rha
Shaam ka vo kinara tha, Sufi ibadaton ki aahat ka meetha ek ehsaas liye gaata jaa rha tha Shaam ka ek kinara tha, Shaam me hi dhalne ko chala jaa rha tha……….!
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It is often abominable conceit at hands of self sufficiency to reprehend reasonings to summation by appreciations. To all those amiable apprehensions and to certainties about them, I wonder at the stipulations to individual self and to the art at ceding to them.
Amazed at such condescensions, I go about a world too deep to be true to the art about truth and with success none I am thrown about, back to the doorsteps once defamed. With centures to any intentions as such what concludes is often of none than worth.
I pertain to perspectives about minimizing such discernment with success none and failures all done. And yet would I conclude to the ideas about my virtued self, to the ambush imitations to yet truthful wealth, to a imagination about what’s afterall to well to be yet often than said!
With worth abundant and redundant, its gross to find adjustments to all those ideas about a yet virtued self!
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To often than before, the consistence about attaining to attentions desired, we push too hard and hate to realise the after effects, to pushing. When tired and torn, we breach the bond…………….with what’s left is our arrangements at blame games, and self tame ending it all too hard.
To such conclusion, and none realisation, we adjurn to the same cycle, after and ever, well before understanding as to when the cycle starts to run us. I often feel scared, at human tendency to conclusions, to attentions, to attachments and then again to conclusions to their contemplation, to these sacred tendencies and to their amusements. Attentions to such conclusions darn us to the self sufficiency we respire around, with all that’s left being disobliging complications and none conclusions.
To amateurs to these tendencies, we often defy what’s worth and aspire through the dark.
I conclude to never conclude, what’s beyond and let it conclude what’s coming forth, to wait the wait and to not agonize the dark. To stop pushing it afterall, to let it play too safe to be true, for what’s worth to be anyway attained.