Sword in pen

Pardon mein chippe hain kuch raaz Jo raat ko bahar aate hain Humare sapnon mein Humein dikhate hain Woh duniya, jismein hum jaa nahi sakte Woh lamhein jinhein hum jee nahi sakte Phir woh raaz wapis pardon mein sama jaate hain. Pardon ko hata agle din Jab khidki se suraj ki kirne aati hain Woh raaz humare bin Kahin door chale jaate hain. @blurry.pages

My fingers are curled into a fist in them, I hold a stranger who metaphorically holds me. There are lines running all over me who carry blood in my system. Practically, I should be a slave to them but I am the slave of the stranger who holds me in my fist. The stranger calls himself 'destiny ' he runs down my hand in a non-uniform, turbulent pattern. These destiny lines are the ropes in which I am entangled. They always pretend to go somewhere like the rivers, falling back in the same source. These lines feel like roots that hold my soul. I no longer feel like a slave to this stranger As I am the tree to these roots. Chanchal Bagla