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beneath

  flesh and blood, gaze beneath, shadows creep, nails beneath, writer’s paradise? share beneath, all oceans, sail beneath, perhaps to pause, and rethink, let it sink, and crawl beneath, pyramid of dreams, sand beneath, you stand tall, sky beneath? you climb, world beneath, ponder, once, what have you lost? eerie nights, but roses beneath, skin and bones, yet lush beneath, you walk, but a creek beneath, shallow, yet you freak beneath, and all that, yet you leave life beneath? -ihsaan, always
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Sunflowers

I turn my attention towards you as the sunflowers turn their necks towards the sun. My life is an endless stream of water feeding your garden, an endless row of trees shading your house, and perhaps an endless night holding you - my qamar. If words would do justice to how beautiful you are, I would have to teach eight billion people a new subject - a new revelation. Buried inside my letters are words that merely describe your outline, with each shadow of my so black stroke gently gliding over adjectives to suit you. My ink, O my beloved ink loves you more than I do, for when I get tired of framing sentences - the ink structures paragraphs against my will. Shallow. Shallow I thought my love would be, for when I saw you, you reminded me of my mother. Your eyes hold a million treasures and a million dreams, and those dreams, their own stories. I wish to be just one of those million stories, even if it is of less importance inasmuch as you remember me. Your love by Allah has n...
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A letter for you

To my forever, yes you, Some days back I started wondering what would be an ideal definition for love. What is that makes people fall in love? How come two strangers, no connection, no history all of a sudden just connect? How is this different from attraction? Is it attraction that makes people fall in love? How can one put all of this in words? How can one distinguish attraction apart from love, and vice versa? How do I outline an answer for these questions? What love is and what love isn’t how do I gauge it? How do I put a range on it? Is my scale of understanding wide enough? Then I look at you, and all these questions evaporate like water on a hot pedestal. Love is immeasurable, it is uncountable. It cannot be taught, yet it is learnt. It is not an exercise, it is a responsibility. It isn’t planted, it is born. It has no shape, yet it is beautiful. It has no degree, yet it is worshipped. How Rumi describes love is how I feel; I am filled with you. Skin, blood, bone, brain, and sou...
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