I had more control on space and time.

So my words could mean something more.

Than hollow fantasies, and empty, bottomless, ideas.

I wish,

My words were more precise,

And sharp like crystal,

And comprehensive enough, to show,

I care.

I wish,

That I had the power to translate my words,

In to actions, so they could not be confused,

With wide swath of vagueness.

I wish.

I am afraid.

…

I know how to bring about the change,

How to rally masses.

How to transform politics,

Of this land. Yes, I do, Sir.

…

What I don’t know is,

How to quench my own fears,

How to stay alive, when shot at,

How to control the anger in the face of a senseless argument.

…

What I don’t know,

Is how to show others, what I see.

The deep-rooted optimism in my country.

…

The resilience of its farmer,

It’s rickshaw-driver.

The optimism of its beggars,

…

That there are better days ahead.

He, the murderer of thousands,

He, who made terrorizing sound like a hobby,

I am positive, that I was not ambivalent.

I actually felt bad.

Felt bad, for the pain he had to go through, in those last moments.

Felt bad for his kids, wives and family.

His mother and father, who brought him to this world.

Who cleaned the Tahrir Square,

While protesting, side-by-side,

With his fellow Egyptians.

…

I envy you because,

You have found your reawakening today,

You have owned the Earth,

You live on.

…

I envy you, because,

My earth is still owner-less.

For, my masters, like your masters,

Are equally unaware,

Of the power their public holds.

…

I envy you because,

I don’t have my reawakening yet.

For, I don’t have the revolution,

That will bring light to my people,

and to my land.

…

In the land of extremes,
The liberal waits for,
The government,
To feed the poor,
And the poor, never gets fed.

In the land of extremes,
The conservatives just awaits,
The shiny day, when business will boom.
The liberals are the problem, they say.

In the land of extremes,
Sufis dwell on their quest,
And become somewhat inert,
Hence irrelevant.

Where did the pragmatist go?
What happened to,
Choosing ‘a’ solution and,
Moving on…
In the land of extremes.

When you bomb the tyrant,
and take life out of collateral,
There will be blood.

Seems that blood has a chain,
It never sheds in episodes,
that are singular.

Why kill a human being?
Just, doesn’t make any sense.
How could he?

How could he,
take out 40 bullets,
and burst them into that man?

Without flinching,
thinking twice, doubting,
what he understood of him.

How could he?
How could he not realize,
that there will be blood.

Where there is too much self-depracation,
And an identity crisis of some sort,
It is as if, the people have no root–
or a center of mass?

They are lying around,
living by, surviving,
non-chalantly,
without standing for something real.

They are bothered, but choose not to act.
It makes me afraid, what shall happen,
If I became one with them.

Of course, I am one of them.
I came from this land, this earth filled with love.
I don’t know happened to this place,
in couple of hundred years.

Some say, let it be.
I just can’t. I am designed the other way.
I either have to fix it, or…
Or abandon it.

–

Leaving for good.

Look forward to the greasy food,

That my Mom shall prepare.

–

I am leaving,

Leaving companionships on a pause,

Hoping I’d come across,

All the treasures that I have collected in friends

–

I am leaving for a higher purpose, a greater good,

So, I keep telling myself.

Try not listen to cynicism,

Working  to protect my “self”.

–

What if I don’t want to be that free bird.

What if I want to be a prisoner of my mind,

And my pursuit,

Of reality that exists in a far land.

The reality that I have to discover for the world.

[Pause]

I know I am fine and  not out of my mind.

Maybe I am changing, being metamorphosed.

Maybe I am just waiting for my calling.

[Pause]

Believe strongly in existence of The Calling.

The purpose, The “Usefulness” of my existence.

The existence which, more often than not, is taken for granted.

Sometimes.