Too much, too little.

Too much has been said,
about life, this adversary.
Too little has been done,
to make it simple as it should be.

With what we got

With what we got we must thrive.
With all we got we must strive.

Words

Once again, I collected,
A bucket-full of words to spell you grace.
Once again, you came,
And they spilled all over the place.

Past, Present, and Future.

You ask me to live in the present ?
Pray, tell me how ?
Or at least tell me, when really is it ?
Is it now ? Or now ? Or now ?

What about the past ?
Whether the fond memories of what I've seen,
or the disappointment of what could've been,
It never lies to me,
It always stands by the side of me.

What about the future ?
Abuzz with possibilities unbound,
Where things are not lost, but only found,
I could be anyone I want,
Think of all the wishes I could grant !

----

Kid, I understand your dismay.
But you must look at it this way:
The past that you're so fond of,
And the future that is so potent,
Was once, and will be some day,
the present.

Broke

Sir, you are tough indeed.

In the face of the tide,
You surf the waves far and wide.

In the palms of death,
You show no fear.
In the qualms of life,
You don't shed a tear.

But in your moments of despair,
(Albeit thin and rare),
Beneath the unwavering flair,
I see your scars.
I see how broke you are.

क़त्ल-ए-आम

नज़रों से जो येह क़त्ल-ए-आम ढाते हो,
बिना तर्कश के इतने तीर कैसे चलाते हो ?