Yeh Khamoshi

tum bhi toh abhi khamosh ho aur hum bhi

aur na jaane kya kehti hai yeh khamoshi...

uss din jab tum mile the humse yeh nahi pata tha ki

yeh mulaquaat hogi humari aakhri...

aur mehsoos hua tha tab ek dard dil mein jab tut gaya

humara woh benaam sa rishta aur phir ban gaya ek naya rista

lekin yeh nahi pata tha ki, yeh naya rista hoga yeh khamoshi...

haan kuch lamhe ki thi yeh galatfehmi ki awaaz

lekin jab tut kar giri yeh awaaz kaanch ki tarah ,

toh bikar gayi aur ban gayi yeh khamoshi...

kuch sawal the tumhare jiske jawab tab nahi the paas humare,

aur jo the sawal humare woh kahin dab gaye aur bankar rahi gayi yeh khamoshi...

kabhi agar phir se mann main aaye yeh sawal tumhare

toh padh lena meri yeh khamoshi...

aur jawab phir bhi na mile toh padh lena

humari inn aankon main ,jahan boonde bankar behti hai yeh khamoshi....

nahi thi galti tumhari jo tum hume samajh nahi paye...

naa hi thi galti humari jo tumhe hum samjha bhi na paaye ,

phir waqt beeth ta sa chala gaya aur reh gayi yeh khamoshi...

ab toh subah se shyaam aur shyaam se raat beet jati hai,

waqt bewaqt dil main dard ke toofan sa uth ta hai ,

phir bhi chup rehti hai tumhari aur meri yeh khamoshi...

kehna hai toh bahut kuch tumse magar kahun bhi toh kaise

jab humare vich hai yeh khamoshi...

jaane anjaane jo dard maine diya hai tumhe aaj phir

woh dard batati hai tumhari yeh aankhein aur tumhari yeh khamoshi...

ab itne tut gaye hain hum bhi ki bas

yehi khwahish reh gayi ki tut jaye yeh sab doori aur bol uthe yeh khamoshi...

Rojalin Rose

Rojalin Rose.

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/yeh_khamoshi_584979

In A Dark Time

In a dark time, the eye begins to see, 
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; 
I hear my echo in the echoing wood-- 
A lord of nature weeping to a tree. 
I live between the heron and the wren, 
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den. 
What's madness but nobility of soul 
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! 
I know the purity of pure despair, 
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall. 
That place among the rocks--is it a cave, 
Or a winding path? The edge is what I have. 

A steady storm of correspondences! 
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon, 
And in broad day the midnight come again! 
A man goes far to find out what he is-- 
Death of the self in a long, tearless night, 
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light. 

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. 
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, 
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? 
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. 
The mind enters itself, and God the mind, 
And one is One, free in the tearing wind. 

- Theodore Rothke