Treading on the road where thousands were lured,keeping a check on the step, fast and secured,I hope the words that I keep,can render a thought so deep,can make a gest for the wound to heal.©drishya_95
The anticipated closure and The walloped beginning. The sought silence In the everyday churning. The similar tune That ports homelands from its nether end, That chases a moving boat on a still stream. Someday, somewhere,I will call this my dream. ©drishya_95
He was born as man among men to show us the way.
The story you are creating need not have a million words, just a modest indentation.©drishya_95
‘How rare and beautiful it is to even exist’-Sleeping at Last
The architect of flawed arguments
To the narrator who listenedTo paint the yesteryear’s ballad. Who wandered about the ring around the Saturn,With a quest of putting a finger on it. To the narrator who was taciturn, With loud thoughts deeming to be misfit. Who ignited the inferno that could extinguishA montage cul-de-sac. To the narrator who planted, Stories within silences, Who staggered on the ruled lines of the blank pages. To the narrator who in a search for a modest indentation, became an architect of flawed arguments. ©drishya_95
Where are you, And why are you there?
#The dry run
Fallen on the road.
The fallen leaf lies silently, On the edge of the road, It picks itself up and travels with the wind They listen, they listen and they listen! To the losses that go unseen, To the laments that go unheard.The wind then blows silently, Whispering these tales to a thousand leaves, To the ones that are fallen, She says, “Come, let us travel together, I do see them happy, when they see a flying feather, But I see them, All of them, When they see you!” So, come let us travel together. ©drishya_95
हर दिल की एक आर्ज़ू होती है, के अनकहा भी कोई सुन ले, के अनसुना भी कोई कह दे।©drishya_95
और फ़ितरत देखो इस ज़माने की, तुम्हें हमसे और हमें तुमसे रिश्तों की अहमियत सिखा रही हैं। ©drishya_95