A Handful of Dust
The words do not flow, for the heart seeks solace amidst raging tussle in the mind's caldron. I searched everywhere, but my exertions have turned up naught but heaps of arid sand. Many a night, has the soul tossed and turned on its bedding, seeking release from troment of crushing waves, that threaten to drown it in sea of thoughts. Life's vicissitudes play pranks upon a weary body whose frame droops and wrinkles with each passing year. I cannot imagine what awaits in the vastness of the unknown ocean that is hastily rushing to swallow us all. The shoreline recedes into mirage that lures and lulls into deep reverie of forgetfulness. The lush and luxurious charms we slave and covet are no better than a hand and mouthful of dust. Unquenching and utterly unsatiating. Haidarwali 201803220036hrs