POEM_: Death?

Death?

Dogmas die.

Why worry

that mine will too?

Just like myself.

No form survives

forever.

And with forms, go

their ideas.

With me

or shortly thereafter

my doctrines

will be reduced

to historical curiosities.

Or less.

Why desire

a mirage?

Why ask for

a security

that is unachievable?

I must stop

pandering to my fear.

Look, I must,

change in the eye.

Accept, I must,

my transformation

into forms unimaginable.

Realize, I must,

the Unity of Becoming.

-

owais

--

This is first being published here.

POEM_: What is Perfect?

What is Perfect?

What is ‘perfect’?

Often,

it is expected to be

that, which is the model

of an ideal.

But ideal

is not natural.

For if it were,

it would be real.

We have been foolish

in assuming

that products of human intellect

can surpass

Reality.

Human intellect,

however brilliant,

is merely an appropriate tool

for living

a limited life

on a limited planet

in a limited time window.

Thus,

an ideal,

any ideal,

is merely

a masturbatory intellectual response

to the frustrations

suffered by a scintillating

human life.

No more.

Yes,

some ideals work.

To an extent.

And only,

to an extent.

What is important

is to use that ideal

to correct the direction

of a life

of a society

of a civilization.

Any effort

to grant a greater status

to a cherished ideal

merely defeats its spirit

by making it

a dogma.

For models of ideals,

do not exist

except as dogmas.

And ‘perfect’ does not exist

except as a loss

in a fearful and defeated

human mind.

-

owais

--

This is first being published here.

POEMT: My Mother / My Earth

My Mother / My Earth


You fulfil

my every need

but not an iota

of my greed!

If only,

I could learn

the difference.

POEM_: Models and Dogmas

Models and Dogmas

When does

a model of reality

become a dogma?

I guess,

when it starts considering

itself greater than

the Reality.

Any model

that considers itself

more real

than the Reality itself,

more truthful

than the Truth itself

is like the devil

that considers himself

greater than God.

Such a model

is none other than

a dogma,

a monstrosity,

an enemy of Reality,

of Truth,

of God.

-

owais

--

This is first being published here.

POEM_: Ghazal - Kya Hoga / Nahin // غزل // ग़ज़ल

Ghazal:  Kya Hoga aur Kya Nahin

Kya hoga aur kya nahin

Mujh ko kuchh bhi pata nahin

Na hota to na lut-ta

Na hone ki saza nahin

Daulat aani jaani hai

Dil ko apne dukha nahin

Jee le jab tak jeevan hai

Khizr kisi ko mila nahin

Hans le, jee le, khush ho le

Kuch aur milega yahan nahin

-

غزل  : کیا ہوگا اور کیا نہیں

کیا ہوگا اور کیا نہیں

مجھ کو کچھ بھی پتہ نہیں

نہ ہوتا تو نہ لٹتا 

نہ ہونے کی سزا نہیں 

دولت آنی جانی ہے

دل کو اپنے دکھا نہیں 

جی لے جب تک جیون ہے 

خضر کسی کو ملا نہیں

ہنس لے، جی لے، خوش ہو لے

 کچھ اور ملے گا یہاں نہیں

-

ग़ज़ल:  क्या होगा और क्या नहीं

क्या होगा और क्या नहीं

मुझ को कुछ भी पता नहीं

न होता तो न लुटता

न होने की सज़ा नहीं

दौलत आनी जानी है

दिल को अपने दुखा नहीं

जी ले जब तक जीवन है

ख़िज़्र किसी को मिला नहीं

हँस ले, जी ले, खुश हो ले

कुछ और मिलेगा यहाँ नहीं

-

owais   اویس   उवैस

--

This has first been published in Sham-e-Raah.

POEM_: More… of What?

More…    of What?

More power.

More fame.

More money.

Yes,

 I want more of these.

And more.

Why do I want

more and more  

of more and more?

Is not

this hole in my soul

unfillable?

Is not,

‘more’

a desire to arrive

at the most?

And, is not the most

unachievable

by a mere human?

Where is

my perspective?

Why don’t I want

the one thing

which I must want more of

if I want to arrive

at my destination

as opposed

to a way-station?

Perspective.

-

owais

--

This is first being published here.

POEM_: Anunaya Vinaya

Anunaya Vinaya

Apologies,

Dear God.

Ask me not

to be loyal

to you.

I cannot be.

My loyalties

are all, already

sworn away.

To your creatures.

Apologies,

Dear God.

-

owais

--

This is first being published here.