"Must it be?"-

suspects the contrapuntist.

my palsied heart quivers.

the window of my heart
opens to the dreams
drizzling from
your eyes. .

and poetry, dulcet,
of yours
has begun to dwell
on my lips

a crossover closes in to depart

the night chugs slowly nigh our memories

he sneezes passing by my city

a sere conviction !

a dawn

would splinter 

into a thousand skies

we, a pair of solitudes,

would sleep 

under a gray sun 

and a moon

would meander 

in the river of night 

with these fickle verses 

. .

chaand se 

churakar

ek nagma 

likha hai..

kal din ke 

ujaale me 

sunaunga tujhe

aur aaj raat bhar

ye abr dard me 

tadapta rahega 

wo chaand 

jo bezaar nikla

usse churakar 

ye nagma likha hai

tere liye

bas ek ummeed 

ke waaste

. .

teri likhi nazmon

ko dohraya fir aaj maine..

wo hawa me bane aashiyane tere 

khwabon ke baadlon se bheegte

sabz-o-baag tere

chaand aur jugnuon ki

baatein teri

mausamon se badalte sheher tere..

teri likhi nazmon ko

dohraya fir aaj maine..

(tumko maloom to hoga hi

ab bhi kabhi kabhi

padh leta hun

teri kitaab ke

un mude huye panno ko.. )

. . 

is bahaar me

wo shazar

sookha hi reh gaya..

shayad koi

saari jadein

chori kar ke le gaya hai..

. .

Those pariah words
that I counted on my
finger tips . .

Pray! What shall I be in my next birth !

Lo! The clouds have devoured the moon.
What shall the oceans have now?