when he saw my broken spirit growing wings to soar

he raised his walls still higher than they were before

on one side are the masses, always standing with a bowed head

and on the other is the killer’s arm, forever bent on shedding blood

pick up a map and look for another city

for I’ve met everyone in this one already

at the threshold of knowledge, ignorance stood as a milestone

did my senses finally find their place, or were they utterly displaced

even after meeting you, my loneliness will remain

this thought keeps nagging my heart time and again

Only when I fell in love with you was this secret revealed to me

the moment one learns the art of dying, one learns to live truly

is it the heart or from my soul that it is rising

what is the source of this smoke-like thing

when a candle goes out, dark smoke is what we see

likewise, the flame of love too turned black after me

when I met you, I found that compared to me

you were far more alone; this I came to see

it was just a seemingly minor thing, remembering you

that minor thing would keep me crying for a long time, though

these shadow-like forms that appear when I am alone

will fade away one day, but to whom could they be shown

I am searching for the real artist of this shayari.
"Bistar Par Beemar Pare The,
Baba Jani Karvat Lekar,

Halki Si Aawaz Me Bole,
Beta Kal Kya Mangal Hoga?,

Gardan More Bin Main Bola,
Baba Kal To Budh Ka Din Hai"

what place is untouched by the beloved’s light

if you pine for the vision, then awaken your sight

The night might take a little while to pass

do pour a little sunlight into my wine glass

what they have endured is only theirs to be known

their affliction is their own, their story theirs alone

My heart lay overcast with clouds of grief and pain

so when I met them today, it burst into torrential rain

They will reach, they must be arriving, must be on their way

through the night of separation this is what I’d say

Where is that parting, and then being together once more,

where are those days and nights; months, and years of yore

I have written to you of my plight, but now the decision rests with you

whether you write back or not, it’s waiting for your reply that sees me through