Will Heaven Shelter Me?

-


Are you selling dreams that fade so fast,

Like morning mist not meant to last?

I hold bright hopes, though worn and thin,

And feel the dark still pulling in.


I look for heaven, a gentle place,

Where quiet joy leaves a tender trace,

Drawn by whispers, a fragile plea-

Will heaven ever shelter me?


I am carried by winds, both rough and kind,

Leaving heavy sorrows behind,

Through laughter’s glow and sorrow’s sting,

I wonder if hope will always sing.


I search for light in shadows deep,

Where lonely hearts lie awake, not asleep,

Through loss and rain, a weary climb-

I wait for dawn in its gentle time.


My dreams drift softly, wild and free,

Across the world like memory,

Chasing shores though far they seem,

A fragile, waking, hopeful dream.


Hope hums softly, low and clear,

When I feel tired and linger here,

Guiding my heart, worn and frayed,

Toward a brighter path remade.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Solitary Road

-
Image
  The Solitary Road ****************** I have never walked this winding path before, Nor known what secrets wait on either shore. Before my eyes, the dusty road extends, Into the mist where sight and distance ends. *** Upon the clay, deep footprints mark the ground, Where time keeps watch in silence all around. Before my time, through shadows and through light, Unknown spirits walked into the night. *** Through steep ascents and rocks that bruise the feet, Past rusted iron spikes and blinding heat, I wander slow, with parched and burning lips, As sweat like drink from weary fingers drips. *** So many narrow lanes and shortcuts hide, Yet not a single sign to act as guide. But a weathered stone, worn down by wind and rain, Whispers to me amidst the steady pain: *** "The feet that climbed the mountain's highest peak, Will never fear the valleys, low and bleak." Some paths were paved with glitter, wealth, and praise, Some promised love to brighten weary days. *** Some left th...
Read more

The Refugee

-
Image
  The border was a wound drawn across our blood, A sudden storm that stole the earth we knew. The rivers forgot the songs they once had sung, And the sky no longer felt like home or true. We left our doors, our gardens, and our names, Carrying only memories in our eyes. A home is not made only of walls and flames- It lives where a heart can safely rise. I walked away with nothing in my hand, Yet carried worlds that others could not see. The dust of my homeland followed every step, A silent shadow walking beside me. I became a pillar made of fragile clay, Holding a roof of borrowed skies above. I hid my wounds beneath a quiet smile, And gave my weakness the shape of love. They saw the lamp that brightened up their night, The hands that stitched their broken dreams again. They never saw the darkness inside my soul, Or counted all the tears hidden like rain. I became the river that never stopped flowing, Even when the stones had broken me. I gave my mornings to their tomorrow, And bur...
Read more

Freedom in Motion

-
Image
  You recited it like this: Within the soul, a wild stallion roars, Untamed by chains, unbound by scores. A heart that races through endless sky, Chasing horizons that never die.   No reins can hold what nature has given, A force to live, a drive to be driven. In silent whispers, in music’s call, They find their way beyond the wall.   Brave women walk, with spirits fierce, With eyes that see, with voices pierce. Not shackled by fear, nor bound by doubt, Their strength is clear, their fire devout.   They ride the winds, they dance with storm, In every breath, they are reborn. Not seeking cages, not confined- Their essence free, their hearts aligned.   Some see madness in the restless run, But freedom’s song is never done. It echoes loud in every stride, A fearless force they cannot hide.   For in the wild, the true soul’s found- A universe without bound. A place where dreams can freely soar, And spirits roar forevermore.   ...
Read more

The Cobbler's Creed

-
Image
  He sits beside the roadside bare, A patch of dust, a breath of air. No studio walls, no softened chair— Just quiet craft and sunlit glare. With calloused hands and eyes grown wise, He watches life in hurried guise. Torn soles, forgotten, broken, bare, He lifts with gentle, patient care. From dawn's first hint till shadows creep, He mends the secrets shoes can keep. A worn-out sandal, broken strap, He coaxes life back to its trap. The hammer's tap, the needle's glide, A rhythm born of quiet pride. His earnings thin, a fleeting stream, A fragile balance, a distant dream. For rice, for rent, for children’s books, He stretches time in hidden nooks. Each stitch he sets, a silent vow, To change their fate, if not just now. He dreams beyond the leather’s dust— A life more fair, a world more just. The sun returns, the city stirs, The cobbler’s world, unchanged, occurs. His work begins where journeys end, A guardian of steps to mend. A craftsman bound...
Read more

Refusal to Fade

-
Image
  I refuse to fade away, To become one with yesterday, I want my mark to carve the sky, A lasting flame that will not die. Beneath the quiet shadows of forgotten souls, Lingers the silent echo of stories untold - People who once walked through this world, Their footsteps soft, their presence curled Into corners where no eyes would see, Into moments lost to memory. I wonder about those who lived this way, Leaving no trace along their day, No mark, no name, no voice to find - Only the fading hum of a quiet mind. They never intruded, never caused pain, Carried their burdens in silent strain, Gave up their joy for another’s sake, Their kindness hidden, their hearts at stake. Invisible angels in human skin, Who kept their sorrow folded within. And in the end, they slipped away, Forgotten beneath the world’s cold sway - Left alone in shadows deep, Where memories vanish and stories sleep. No photograph to call them back, No heartbeat tracing their silent track. So many souls who once stoo...
Read more

I, the First Sanctuary

-
Image
  I am the quiet fold of a woman’s embrace, the warm curve where the world first opens its eyes. From the foothills of my body, life climbs upward- every birth rising through me like dawn breaking over a mountain. I am the soft garden where lips learn their first language, the river that quenches the earliest thirst, the cradle where innocence curls in sleep, the harbor where trembling souls find their shore. Across me flow lullabies older than memory. In my tenderness hide the unshed tears of mothers who carried more than the world will ever know. I hold stories in my curves- dreams, longings, names whispered through centuries. Who has not traveled across me? Who has not rested in my shelter? In every gaze, every touch, every fleeting hunger, I see the reflection of the human race- a flame of need, a spark of hope, a fire that keeps life breathing. Sometimes I wander the world misread, misunderstood, like a traveler carrying a truth too ancient to explain. Yet I remain what I have...
Read more

What You Never Saw

-
Image
  I walked through your silence carrying questions you never cared to hear, but I learned to answer myself in the echoes you left behind. For too long I let your shadow linger over my light, believing your judgment was the sky I had to live under. You mistook my patience for weakness, and my quiet for surrender- but storms are born in stillness. "You don’t accept me because you think your beauty and wealth puts you above me, because you believe we could never be equal. But you never understood- my destiny doesn’t depend on you. I decide my own worth. And you can’t measure my attitude, nor the inner energy I’ve been hiding from you- a strength you never bothered to see, and could never control." So now I rise without looking back, leaving your illusions behind me like dust in the sun. I am done shrinking for those who refuse to see, and I walk forward carrying only the truth of who I am. My spirit moves where it chooses- far beyond the reach of your arrogance, toward a horizon...
Read more

The Lived Body

-
Image
  "I walk the line my senses weave, With eyes unlit, yet still believe. Each step a truth I cannot see, Yet always was, and always me." In this dance of daily life I stride, A silent compass set inside. With every step, a truth I find, A quiet knowing in my mind. The ground beneath—a pulse, a beat, A wordless whisper to my feet. My limbs awake, my muscles sing, Each motion born on hidden string. Without a glance, I sense the way, The arc, the tilt, my body’s sway. My joints keep watch through dark and light, A silent story in the night. The weight I bear, the breath I take, Each move a choice, each choice awake. My body is the eye that sees The wind’s soft hand in bending trees. I need no sight to walk the line; The space I hold is wholly mine. My hands will trace the cheek’s warm curve, My feet recall where they must swerve. The roads I’ve walked, the turns I’ve known, Are etched in muscle, nerve, and bone. I walk the line, I feel the flow, The muscle’s thread, the tendon’s ...
Read more

The Lament of Unseen Sorrows

-
Image
Upon the silent edge I found her grace, No pallid shroud, nor clanking of a chain, But lullabies enwoven in her face, And ancient sorrow folded in her pain. She spake, "I am the shade of what untold, The grief unchristened, by the world unnamed. 'Postpartum,' they did call it, swift and cold, As if mere time such anguish had contained." No chilling draft, no whisper on the air, Yet felt I then the burden of her sight. She told of children, vanished past compare, Not lost to earth, but cradled from the light. For strangled dreams, ere breath their being drew, And joy, in infancy, by hands unseen, Were offerings given, bitter, stark, and true, The death of futures, where no light had been. "These are the ones no burial rites attend," She murmured low, "Thus must I ever bear." "Dear Jayan," once she breathed, "unto the end, I rode unseen, a shadow in your care. You turned not 'round, but hastened on your way,...
Read more

The Lion of the Ring – A Tribute to The Great Gama

-
Image
In mud-stained pits beneath the sun, Where battles of will and muscle are won, A titan rose from Punjab’s pride, With steely gaze and thunder stride. From humble earth, his legend sown, A spirit forged, uniquely grown. Ghulam Muhammad was his name, But “Gama the Great” became his flame. A boy of strength, a man of might, Who never lost a single fight. No challenge too grand, no foe too tall, He answered determination's call. Like a mountain unmoved in stormy breath, He stared down fear and danced with death. From court to court, they heard the tale, Of warriors bested, strong men pale. He faced the giants, one by one, And left a legacy bravely spun. For courage blooms where doubts retreat, And victory follows tireless feet. He struck like lightning, swift and clean, With balance sharp as a blade unseen. No boast, no crown, no scripted tale— Just grinding years and iron scale. Each muscle earned, each triumph forged, A silent promise, deeply gorged. This is the path of t...
Read more