Wasiq Bokhari September 8, 1997
#4 Posted by xyz on September 15, 1997 10:55:02 am
I liked the verses very much. No wonder the
deserts are one of the best places to remind one of one`s significance in the universe and the grandeur and majesty of the Creator of the worlds.
Someday, I`d like to go there myself.
deserts are one of the best places to remind one of one`s significance in the universe and the grandeur and majesty of the Creator of the worlds.
Someday, I`d like to go there myself.
#3 Posted by SaimaShah on September 11, 1997 1:13:03 am
Beautifully written piece; just a thought tho:
(You speak of the beauty of aridity;
the majesty and glamour of solitude
I speak of the comfort of solitude):
The desert is an illusion: Forests are real
Twinkling streams, dancing sunlight
colours entwining through my hair
music, music of the soul reaching
out heavanwards in cascading rivulets
of light
Verdant green lush with promise
brimming with hope
red with joy;
laughter twinkling bells of delight
My forest full of flowers old trees
playful squirrels, the hint of rain
old moss covered cobblestoned pathways
reaching twining through the valley of dreams
and people people always people
walking through staying being
free.
(You speak of the beauty of aridity;
the majesty and glamour of solitude
I speak of the comfort of solitude):
The desert is an illusion: Forests are real
Twinkling streams, dancing sunlight
colours entwining through my hair
music, music of the soul reaching
out heavanwards in cascading rivulets
of light
Verdant green lush with promise
brimming with hope
red with joy;
laughter twinkling bells of delight
My forest full of flowers old trees
playful squirrels, the hint of rain
old moss covered cobblestoned pathways
reaching twining through the valley of dreams
and people people always people
walking through staying being
free.
#2 Posted by SaimaShah on September 11, 1997 12:54:46 am
(You speak of the beauty of aridity;
the majesty and glamour of solitude
I speak of the comfort of solitude):
The desert is an illusion: Forests are real
Twinkling streams, dancing sunlight
colours entwining through my hair
music, music of the soul reaching
out heavanwards in cascading rivulets
of light
Verdant green lush with promise
brimming with hope;
red with joy
laughter twinkling bells of delight
My forest full of flowers old trees
playful squirrels, the hint of rain
old moss covered cobblestoned pathways
reaching twining through the valley of dreams
and people people always people
walking through staying being
free.
the majesty and glamour of solitude
I speak of the comfort of solitude):
The desert is an illusion: Forests are real
Twinkling streams, dancing sunlight
colours entwining through my hair
music, music of the soul reaching
out heavanwards in cascading rivulets
of light
Verdant green lush with promise
brimming with hope;
red with joy
laughter twinkling bells of delight
My forest full of flowers old trees
playful squirrels, the hint of rain
old moss covered cobblestoned pathways
reaching twining through the valley of dreams
and people people always people
walking through staying being
free.
#1 Posted by khan on September 11, 1997 12:10:33 am
Very well said.
Interesting that the harsh, inhopitable, aloof and intolerant desert has dunes that seem to lie waiting like a devoted lover (excellent image on its own). The lover that is aloof and eternally sought-after and is yet also yeilding and yearning is the unattainable ideal.
Interesting that the harsh, inhopitable, aloof and intolerant desert has dunes that seem to lie waiting like a devoted lover (excellent image on its own). The lover that is aloof and eternally sought-after and is yet also yeilding and yearning is the unattainable ideal.
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