Perhaps you were birthed
from a tear that left my
eye
each time I raised my hands
in prayer,
and the shivering soul
in the remotest corner of my body
cried
Perhaps my dua reached
where I couldn’t,
and the season of our meeting
had reached it’s
destination
as soon as the season
of our individual, dilapidated sorrows
had exhaled it’s ultimate breath sans
procrastination,
and the entire purpose of fate
throwing us against the edge
of deepest
fears
was to create a path
to merge our throbbing
tears
into unity of destiny,
and perhaps to make us
conscious enough
to overcome the hurdles
of worldly, domesticated boundaries
that only questions and demarcates…
Perhaps this was always how
it was meant to be
and how do I explain
the things I went through
on my way to you?
Walking on the flames of pain
where darkness hugged,
tears kissed
and sleep stayed frozen awake
in the coldest, stoned nights
through missed
ectopic beats,
where screams lay trapped
jailed inside claustrophobic mind
where the origin of own light in eyes
burnt you trembling blind
A long journey it’s been
forcing against the storm
of doubting humanity and hearts
who said I won’t find you
And look, you stare back at me now
smiling 
Suffice to say
you still feel like a dream
But my cognizance whispers to me
“This is an answered prayer”.
@
@
dua- (urdu language) Prayer
ectopic- misplaced
@
@
“Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul”- Mahatma Gandhi
