Wednesday, February 20


Senseless expectations of a life lived to limits of misconceptions.
Contemptuous beliefs of the inexhaustible monotony of the world;
We move on endlessly tumbling down the lane of deceptions
Our existence –a speck in the malicious cycle of a thing called humanity.
Weaving through the thread of biography,
Each life’s unexpected philosophy,
The wheels of silence churned and churned…
A birth to a prodigy;
A loveless thing, a lethal automaton
Grasping the intangibles and the untouchables
An eternity of abnormality, clamor –
The human race.
Trapped within their innumerable cultures and societies,
Incapable to comprehend individuality,
They fight wars of hysteric madness, Wars for freedom.
Freedom of speech, freedom of thought, of life!
Of cause and effect, that blurs and evades their infinitely inconstant identities.
Deceptions; corruptions; corrections; apprehension,
Sanity and insanity based on trial and error,
Who are we within this vast universe?
They talk about hope--Sitting in silence, relentlessly!
Hope they say is a dangerous idea, enough to drive a man insane.
Idea is where I disagree. Hope I say is a state.
A state of redemption. The shape of sovereignty.
A drive to freedom. A dark fire surrounded with wild angels begging for light!
What “hope” does this “modern world” give us?
As an intellectual race, as “human beings”?
Marching the beats of a meaningless journey,
We Search for identity and meaning, Longing for survival,
We search for peace; for traits of “normality” within us!
Yes, a meaningless journey, through each day’s chores and phrases.
And we fail, time and again,
Falling incessantly in the cesspit of prejudice, cruelty and injustice!
Each day the human race grows closer to experience,
Darkening innocence’s hopeful vision,
Rehearsing the parts they must play,
With strength against those who would freeze their humanity,
Dissolve their individuality; against those who would make them a thing!
A thing with one face, a loveless thing,
A lethal automaton,
“I’m doing the best I can!”---Are we?
Clamor –
An end to a prodigy.
a long lost friend Junaid sent me this.

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