It wasn’t the wavering verdancy that I wanted to be a deceased part of or perhaps a constituent of a quivering past. Maybe these words are after all mine to write or perhaps the contemplation of a few meaningful conversations, for how can I seem to forget the corner we solely used to revert to, […]Read More “The Figments of Our Imagination” by Imaan Siddiq
The Doors of Eden. To what wonder is it, As I dwell among the blues. Like an inconsequential shred of disbelief, For even death remains a recompense, For the incessant vice of a lost breath. I can’t seem to fathom the unfaltering sagacity, That lies like an outcast in this Vale of Tears. I can’t […]Read More “The Doors of Eden.” by Imaan Siddiq
It isn’t often that I recede into the fading non-existence to but catch a glimpse of a parallel humanity that runs unhindered through the ravines of a disintegrating Land of Eden. It is only in a flurry of a moment that it is contemplated about the verdant landscapes of Kashmir, among the then invigorating breezes […]Read More A Vale of Tears.
It isn’t just intuition to always listen to the silence encompassing as you stand at the pivot of staggering words and a pretension towards the innumerable words of wisdom that lay hanging in the Land of Eden. There isn’t anything without a consequence nor an objective without the art of subjectivity as personalities metamorphose with […]Read More Words of Sagacity.
It is only in the prepossession of the lost that one tends to find the verdancy in the barren landscape, one that has been called home for centuries. One that has persevered through thick and thin and has reincarnated the incessant marathon among the wordless oceans and the abodeless lands. It doesn’t exhilarate me to […]Read More “The Lost Pearl” by Lara Zuberi
It isn’t the apprehension that blinds me, Or the rejection that clogs my wellbeing. It is the sense of inadequacy that takes the charm, From the guiltless moons, And the stained constellations that flicker inconsequently. Nor does the edge petrify me to falter, To step forward and but forget the burdens hosing us down. It […]Read More The Stained Constellations
It is in the duality that one often finds tranquillity in the singularity, and just like that when one’s ideologies are transformed into an incomprehensible viewpoint where you neither remain an entity nor a collection of iotas, you apprehend the ever-lasting alteration. The discord among the lines so clearly drawn and so blindly followed, you […]Read More “Three Daughters of Eve” by Elif Shafak
The Guillotine of Absolution Wasn’t it impeccably soothing as the consciousness would divulge in the blinding pits of twilight, suspended along the finite silver thread as it glimmered upon the melanin of my skin. How the once verdant bond was now left vacant with a stammering, shivering soul in pursuit of a sanity lost in […]Read More The Guillotine of Absolution – A Short Story
A Comforting Death. I wonder what’s left for me to write. What words have yet been unsaid by my soiled eyes, Or what murmurs have yet gone unnoticed, Among the chatter in the skull. And the incessant urge of plunging into demise. It crumples me down, The inconsistency of the ravishing winds, And the […]Read More A Comforting Death.
A Deafened Cosmology. It wasn’t a foreign sentiment to sit beside the invigorating wood-carved window and look beyond the verdancy that glimmered like the Stars of Eden, to look at the overarching beastliness of existentialism and wonder incessantly of a vision fleeting by. The only alteration this time around the corner included the battered, bleeding […]Read More “A Deafened Cosmology.” – A Short Story