Image by Julia Kadel

Slept at night to wake up to a different truth

But woke up in the same time with the same devastating news

Does an eulogy matter when someone’s gone?

Does it pay to tell a dead man of his strengths?

Though it wouldn’t reach you now that you’re far away

I’m going to do it anyway

You left this world, untimely if I dare say

God knows best of His plans that we cannot grasp

I wish I told you one last time

What made you stand out are the real strengths a man can have

Your composure and manners will stay with us

Long before your memory fades

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon

Rest in peace, Dr Khurram.

You’re gone and you’ve served us a reminder

To be kind to all before its too late.


So all your strength was but another facade

Carefully put together to lure us in

We don’t allow ourselves to be fooled by you again

From here onwards, we choose our own path

Let me mourn you today

Tomorrow, there’ll be no place for you to stay.

Image by Adrien Olichon

Save myself

I want you out of me, all of you.

I despise your selfish touch

I despise your harsh words

You have no respect for anybody whatsoever

But you will act victim. Everytime

Maybe I deserved you

Maybe you’re my wakeup call

But one day I’ll free myself of you

One day I’ll save myself .

Credit Freestocks

Sublime #writephoto

Are you here? Is this real?

Even though she could feel the warmth of his breaths upon his lips, she could feel his chest rise and fall, and hear his heart beat and hers stop, she did not dare turn her head and look towards him. Even though he was a touch away, she did not dare make that contact.

All her life she waited for this. Could she ever believe she would sit by him and they will witness the eternity of sky, together. There they were, but she did not dare put him to test. She had been poise all her life, staunch like a determined sea not tearing up to any storm.

But this moment was fragile. She had carefully embellished her to the thread of her heart, she was scared to be disintegrated at its hand.
How long has it been? She asked.

I don’t know, but I’m sure this is what eternity feels like. He replied.

They both sighed.

They loved this sight. There was something sublime about it. There were no day, no night in the gardens of Eden. It was like the sun and the moon were in a divine contentment, a state of blue between rise and fall.

Prompt from Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto challenge. 

Paradox – A play of life and death

Is life anything but a series of paradox?

Shades and sunshine.

Light and darkness.

Noise and silence.

Life and death?

Significance of paradox: It is fair to say that one thrives off the other.

Will there be any recognition of shade without sunshine? Or light without darkness, or noise without silence?

Consider a state of perpetual noise, can we still appreciate it as a distinct entity?


So its fair to say that the existence or recognition of one entity rests in its encounter with the antithesis.

Life needs to meet death, in order to incite appreciation for life itself.


Supremacy in paradox: Is it fair to say that darkness and silence are imperial to their antagonists?

For they exist in unison with the universe.

Consider it like this. We often say that darkness is the absence of light, have you ever heard anyone say that light is the absence of darkness? Or sound, the absence of silence?

In other words darkness and silence do not feel foreign. They are the natives of this land, this place we call the universe, while light and noise are exotic, so we feel their distinctive presence.

As darkness and silence are always present, light and sound come and go. They are interim.

This notion will also mean that death is a constant to this universe.

Death is the native while life comes and goes. It means while we’re all so focused on life, the real, and imperial entity is death.

Only we fail to appreciate it. Ironic, isn’t it!

We’re all boasting life, while life only comes to depart.

We’re like a log that is burning at both ends. While we’re engrossed in living the moment, we don’t realise that each moment is turning us into ash bit by bit.

PC: Anthony lee finearts