Aadil Ghulam Bhat Poet and Author Today, I am the shade of roses dead, Their petals bruised, now scattered on the ground. A token of the beauty once I knew, Now trampled 'neath the weight of careless feet. Once vibrant dreams, they gasp, they faint, they die, Like smoke that fades and vanishes in air. They curl into the void where once they burned. From castles high I built upon the clouds, Their walls now crumble, crumbling to dust. What I once loved slips like the sand through glass, Fading like whispers in the silent night. What’s left of me’s a heart in jagged shards, Heavy, broken, fragments of a soul. Today, I wear the crown of those long lost, A figure wrapped in shadows, deep in grief. Tomorrow stands, a faceless, silent page, Where no ink falls to mark what’s yet to come. Perhaps the sun has turned its face from me, Perhaps these shadows are my only guide. I drift, a ghost, between what was and is, A soul encased in winter’s endless frost, As cold as stone, as still...
Aadil Ghulam Bhat Poet & Author. (Where the mind is without fear A nd the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;) ~ Rabindranath Tagore O h dear Tagore! the lament of the written words—this sacred art, Once a medium for profound contemplation, it has now been diminished to the triviality of emails and text messages. I can’t help, but imagine how you might have navigated this digital chaos.Perhaps you would have found yourself calling as an Instagram poet, crafting pithy 280-character gems of wisdom into condensed, bite-sized pieces perfectly suited for the fleeting attention spans of scrolling fingers. Your insightful reflections on the human condition would likely be drowned in a sea of hashtags like #LiteraryNoble and #nobleforlikes, lost amid an endless parade of selfies a...