उम्मीद

कुछ तारों के टुकड़े हाथ में लिए
फिर रहा हूँ कबसे;
मेरी उम्मीद की आखरी निशानी है यह।

नादानियत की भी हद तोह देखो, यारों
टूटते तारों से उम्मीदें बाँधने चला था मैं।

एक मुलाक़ात

कल रात मैं मिला मुझसे;
पहचान होने में कुछ देर हुई।
शायद क्यूंकि टूटा था वोह
शायद क्यूंकि बिखरा था मैं।

या शायद क्यूंकि वजूद के दो अनजान हिस्से
अपने-अपने मुकद्दर की तलाश में मश्रूफ़ थे।

A Dead Spider In Its Web

An untidy tangle of lifeless limbs;
eight gangly legs
entwined in a futile, convulsive,
supplication to Life
and Death.

The dead spider swings gently
in the sluggish summer breeze.
In death,
a prisoner of its own web of
gossamer deceit.

Suspended,
like Trishanku,
between heaven
and earth.
Condemned to an eternal vigil
of Salvation.

Untitled

The muggy, mangled night
mingles with my tears
and percolates
bluck, turgid,
into the wrinkled dusts of my Soul.

Tears and sweat
meet old, parched blood
and fuze,
molecule to unclean molecule.

Thus do I nurture
the pain that my love for you
invites home,
night after muggy night.

Last Night

The time we spent together
shatters
by my sleepless bedside.
Torn from each other,
infinite desolate particles from
yesterday's togetherness
lie on the floor
blinking in disbelief.

I sweep and gather
each infinitesimal moment we have shared
into my hands.

I scan the fragments for your laughter.

But all I see are the shadows of
disjointed echoes.
And the shards of your seductive smiles
glinting in the
ancient, decaying starlight.

At daybreak,
I close my weary eyes
and shed a few tears
into my hands
in the hope that
through some exotic alchemy of pain and sunlight,
our broken time will mend itself.

And you will return to the time we spent together.