Many Dimensions & More Many Dimensions & More & More & More & More

Saturday, May 31

Catharsis- by Danish Khan

Darkness slowly devours the evening. From the folds of the dark clouds lightning shines without its audible threat. The faces half lit by it look like black and white pictures. Some are hurrying home, some amble aimlessly, some have nowhere to go. The dogs whine confusedly and are running amok. The waves swell their chest and hammer at my feet where I stand rooted. Memories steal upon me like the sudden burst of wind
Each pompous wave takes away the sand from beneath my feet and makes me sink more. I look heavenwards. Now those dark clouds are rushing towards me. The wind is blowing with a certain urgency as though it wants to subjugate those tall stately palm trees. The strong wind billows in to my clothes and blows them out. It leaves a cool sensation on my skin. I am alive!
The waves have become more arrogant now. They beat against my chest violently. The clouds have swallowed up the horizon. The lightning tears through the clouds with deafening crackle. I look back over my shoulders. I can see my footprints in the sand. I pull my feet away from the holes that the waves had relentlessly dug under my feet. Goaded by the wind I rush towards my footprints in the sand . I want to retrace them before the rains wash them away. I only manage to smudge them. Frustrated I make a deep, deep trail through them.
The rain splashes on my face and flattens my hair. Now there is a steady stream. My clothes stick to my body as though they are scared of losing me. The raindrops are falling in a definite rhythm. The whistle of the wind is like the high note of a flute. The tall stately palm trees are dancing in the rain. Water has collected in the trail that I had made. I splash the water with my foot. It jumps up joyously! I splash it again with my other foot. The rains have washed every trace of my footprints. But through the trail that I had made in the sand a small stream has started flowing.

The Salvation- by Aziz Qaisi

In the doorway of thoughtful night
My shadow barred my way and said
"The image that you created,
Decorated, and gave form, the soul,
Has your eyes.
You live for that image.
The image is your name,
Your body and your existence.
Without it you do not exist.
You'are the captive of your own creation".

One day, with the adze of fatihlessness,
Leaving creation for personification,
Leaving one horizon for a new,
Leaving belief for superstition,
I smashed the image,
Now,
There is no form, no voice, no sound,
Nothing, except a feeling of emptiness,
Nothing, except the darkness of non-existence.


I asked my shadow:
"Under my feet lie the ruins of my image;
My eyes are lost in it;
Please find them for me".

But in reply,
A silence seem to say,
"There are no ruins here,
No shadow here'
Not even you"

If this is salvation,
Then what is the punishment for life?