Was it a dream?

It wasn't a bed I was sleeping on
It was something flowing and colder
It was something having waves
I was floating instead of sleeping
with my face facing the sky
and the flowing water being my bed
with all my hair open and wet
with my gown rustling with air
my eyes were peacefully shut
yet the dreams were flowing through them
And somebody was watching keenly from a distance
It wasn't a dream, was it?
Or I was floating somewhere between 
wakefulness and dreaming?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ڈر لگتا ہے

اس قدر خاموشی ہے ،ڈر لگتا ہے  من میں سوۓ شور سے ڈر لگتا ہے تیرے آ کر پھر جانے کا وہ جاں کن لمحہ  تیرے آ کر پھر جانے سے ڈر لگتا ہے  رت جگوں کے رنگ ہیں پھیلے  آنکھوں میں  خشک آنکھوں کے در کھلنے سے ڈر لگتا ہے  وہ  جو ہونے اور نہ ہونے کے درمیان ہے   شہر میں پھیلی ایسی  وبا سے ڈر لگتا ہے   ڈاکٹرنازش امین  
Read more

Mustansar Hussain Tarar . (A gesture of gratitude on 75th birthday)

I had to rush. Time was rushing too. It was a lovely February morning in Karachi, Pakistan. The smooth chilled breeze at the sea shore was refreshing to the core. The lush green lawn of this elegant hotel located by the sea was filled with people of diversification. I reached at the edge of the small flight of stairs that was leading to the vast expense of lawn. Sheema kirmani was performing on the stage and the echoes of the shadow were visible on the larger than life screen. I looked for him. But that was absurd. It was impossible to find anyone in this crowd. So I decided the next best thing. I moved towards the hall specified for his session. Room 007. There wasn't anyone there yet except for a cute couple (later found out to be his dedicated fans and my newly acquired friends). I selected the best seat with the best view of the stage. And silently, began waiting. Slowly the crowd moved in and the hall was full in no time. My pulse ran higher and I began to have palpitations...
Read more