By Syed Zumair Bukhari


Isolated every now and then, up the creep,

Life goes on with musings of heap;

Hollowness tempts me deepen deep,


Blissful often unhollows me, I cry, I weep;

Why couldn’t you hear me? Am I that nigh?

I’ve veiled your reminiscence with every sigh;


On the wedge of hills, I scream your name,

My soul stretches tight across the skies,

The rainbow furnishes shade to reach you,


The time resumes to feel you, to feel us,

I am burnt-out in my covetousness, blazing high,

Your shadow furnishes breeze to my lingering soul,


I espy you in the burnt-out ends of smoky day,

Though you’ve a great vision of boulevards,

Your glimpse fades to astonish me,


And slowly I live, I die, though it hardly understands,

I being a hypocrite keep things go on,

You exist no more in my nest, so doesn’t I,


Somewhere far away, I yet feel us,

Abhorrence jammed ecstasy, life walked out,

Time passed by degrees, detached us,


Nothing much to carve up,

We departed long turns back,

Distant us,


Strangers Us . . .


(Hailing from Kreeri Baramulla, Syed Zumair Bukhari is pursuing civil engineering.)


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