اکیلا تھا کسے آواز دیتا
اترتی رات سے تنہا لڑا میں
محمد علوی ~

the feeling of being alone is not new but when i add isolation to it, as the trend is with the lockdown, the meaning changes from a choice to being imposed to being alone.

even then, i would not concede to feeling despair.

reading at least six books at one time, the concentration keeps flipping sides. the urgency to write impails itself deep inside but it has still not found it’s way out.

I wait.

everyone is waiting.

there is no hurry anymore.

was sitting outside and the quiet allowed me to hear the grasshoppers after years. I thought they had left while their voices were only drowned in the sin of human chaos. somewhere I heard a gate being locked, and at another distance a cat purred.

after all is done and the day folds itself into another night, it seems everything is calm. within and without.

a slight breeze is forever present now.

the sky is blue and the trees are a dense green. nature is healing in the absence of human beings. that it has taken sickness and death for it to heal is sad indeed, to a certain extent. but how much of nature and wildlife has died for the pleasure of mankind… I think the count is endless.