Makhtub, living life as it comes

One is an interesting thought, Once I thought of one One is a thought, Once I had a thought of one, One is an aftermath Once I had an experience One is a hallucination Once I had it as part of imagination One is a process Once I had it executed One is just an emotion Once I had a chance of having one One is none cared for Once I had a solitary thought One is just one Once I had..

21 years did it take  21 years to come to terms  21 years since you left us away 21 years is all that remained  Grand and generous were you for my eyes, Remain in thoughts and in memories Away from the bustle of the world  Never a hustle did I have to do reciprocate Days, months and years are all passing on Mum stayed the world, for 21 years..

I can write no more, I can write no more, Of fear, of death, of destruction, I can write no more, Of pain, suffering, of joy I can write no more, Of illusions of life, I can write no more, Of thoughts, feelings I can write no more, Of all that is good, I can write no more, Of all that is bad, I can write no more,, I can write I can write NO MORE

Tears, involuntarily flow through Hidden for years thorough and pure One for the inner child One for the lost child One for all that was meant to be mild Tears, involuntarily flow through Never shed, never spoken about  One for the instances  One for the reactions  One for all the one put on self called restrictions  Tears, involuntarily flow through Never discussed, never debated One for a memory One for a thought  One for all those people held once close to heart  Tears, involuntarily flow through Once bitten, twice bitten, forever shy lie they within...

A thousand words, spoken and heard, Though, there was was just words How they behave are for their own dilemmas,  Onerous and generous are they in function throughout  Undermine them, they bite, Grow them, they bite harder How many ever times one changes them again,  Thoroughly vengeful they remain  Words, vengeful and silent  Omnipotent they claim not to be  Day in  and day out do they tumble off thoughts, deeds, not holding them dear, Remain as they always are, ready to drop all for few drop of tears Somehow, someway, all that they desire is not for stillness or finesse A thousand words, spoken and heard  Nothing is said, nothing is heard, yet all understood