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Sunday, 31 May 2009

Against hope

The raindrop on my brow
Lost itself on my touch
Like a lover smitten
Melts-in sans wait much

Woes of living away so far
Were not to upset my spirit
If these forlorn tears
Didn't look raindrops a bit

No news from winds so thick
Nothing from the skies
Wonder if I breathe still
The life in her sighs

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When the light fades

I build myself again, again to go,
Leaving some gentle moments behind,
When the demons of solitude let me smile;
They desert me often, often they’re kind.

I find my answers, I breathe them in,
And keep them there before they hurt;
When the man in me erupts to rule,
I become a child, a child curt.

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Who am I?

Not a believer inside the mosque 
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharoh
Not in the holy Vedas
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
In happiness nor in sorrow
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
Not in stillness, nor on the move
I am the first, I am the last
None other, have I ever known
I am the wisest of them all
Bulleh! do I stand alone?
-Baba Bulleh Shah

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