Shadowing The Own Shapes! Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

I've been alive since I first cried
What was there and what was not there
I still know
Blurred yet I remember it all
Was it a life or bare a lifeless sigh
I must note it down carefully

Carefully I must speak to you
Cautious I must be against myself
From middling years to now
I've felt much
I haven't know much
But I've witnessed much
Law never favored the literature I knew
I might be wrong
Nobody corrected me respectively

Respectively I regretted over the terms of law
I ate the letters, I drank words
and I translated the impossible
Was I this much creative?
Was I a natural one?
Or I was a product of the times
Honestly I don't know

Honestly I don't about the dance of death
I haven't attended the rude faces
I haven't been welcoming at all
But I was stunned once
Once when I felt the rhythm of love
I feel that I must have exited that rhythm
I knew not the feelings would be for me
I forgot for a moment that I was in prison

In the quest of freedom, I rode another way
On the road of love
In the streets of city, I wandered
Together we wandered
Keeping aside the other tracks
Just followed each other
Hoping that everything would be fine
As long as we are true to each other
But the trust lane was torn...

How does it sound?
Being true to each other, how deep is the story
Losing the tracks of trust, here I stand
Here I stand awfully
Toying with the tones of myself
I try to be denser
Denser against myself, drier against the winds
What's in the diary? I rummage it secretly
There's nothing
Nothing but a shattered hope
Hope that must die

What must die is not immortal
And so am I
Should I leave the all sights?
Should I go against the roots?
Should I oppose the homely parents?
Where should I be? Where should I not be?
In the layers of questions, I encroach slowly
Reading the things that slept long inside me

Long ago there lived ghosts
Ghosts that were dear to me
I must return to them, they must return to me
But ago rebellion voice raises there
A traitor inside me echoes
This isn't plain; this isn't simple

Nothing can simply be undone
Undone comes after being done
Reaching the dust, I smell ancient
Dust stained with blood-drops
I smile
Smiling to accidents is in my blood
From very first accident to the recent one
I've been bold
I've grown with every trauma

Truamas are human beings
And human beings surround us
A little attempt I did
To befriend them
to love them
To hug them
to be true to them
But all went in vain
There's a shadow, a shadowy story
Narrator's tones stumble
Hesitantly he stands

Walking the dull walks
Unfriending the absurd mates, I partly feel fine
I feel the passivity
I feel the disturbed peace
But I at least feel the fire
Fire in moments that keeps me alive

I wish not to be with anyone
Anyone whose heart is humanly
I want a birdland
I crave for an imaginary meadow
I shan't marry any woman
I'll be off to insane instincts
I'm akin to the tunes of bodies
I feel that bodies are temporary
But the wounds they attach are permanent
I won't wish for any permanence

For the permanence questions the progress
For the progress is an abstract idea
Abstraction is superior
Superior to worldly reality
Realities taunt at me; they tantalize me by & by
Different quarters are there
I have not to stop anyway
I will please the conscience
I will burn my wishes
I will delete the tendencies
I will be an attitude
Attitude for the lasting tides of time
An era for the oppressed evenings
Reciting the own poems, I'll rest in peace!