I dreamed
I was
At Birthwaite
I awoke
I was

Keith Wilson, Windermere, UK, Oct 2016

A grey area in my body my sweetheart is just my heart
Which takes me to fountain of beauty being direly thirsty
Being a large reservoir it accumulates in it beauty of all sort
It remains busy in this connection and is never ever free

So I capture beauty in it where ever I find it or just locate
Being a lover of beauty I never ever feel tired to take rest
At times beauty shows after lot of struggle at times in plate
I am created by my Lord in the mold which suits me best

Eyes and heart play entirely to be very near to the fountain
Soul and body take risk to be always on the proper path
In this pursuit I have to surmount mountain after mountain
My beloved you are a burning candle I am a relent less moth

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

When Death comes knocking at the door
And as the curtain finally falls
My voice will be stilled
My heart, now ticking off like a clock
Will ever be silent
My foot falls shall no more be heard
All my songs will be stifled in the throat
All my crazy thoughts will be frozen
And I shall take leave of all
And the whole lot of petty things I hold dear

But what difference does it make?
The earth will continue to spin as before
The stars will illumine the night sky
Days will follow days in endless succession
Time, chanting the refrains of joy and sorrow,
On wings, shall fly to destinations unknown.

Will there be anyone to grieve my absence?
Will my sons ever miss their Mama?
Will my loved one still hold me close to his heart?

May be for a while
A short little while

But as years glide,
And my tomb lies over grown with weeds
And the engraving on my head stone
Fades out in morbid grime and moss,
When I merge with the dust as dust,
When I lie inert, a rattling heap of bones under the sod
When my spirit still hovers around in vain
With insatiable longing for all your love,

Then give me, my Lord! A ride in your chariot!
Remove from my spirit the languor of endless waiting!
Carry me to Thy *****!
Embalm me with Thy love,
That I shall no more crave for earthly love
And with you in bliss, ever united
Look down evermore content
As the wheels roll down to Eternity!

Krishna is the whole
and
we are part and parcel of Krishna

The thing I like most about November,
It's that it's easier to let go than to remember.

But if I've learned anything from October,
It's that even relentless things can be over.

And if I know anything about September,
It's that love is an ever burning ember.

Or if I know anything about August,
It's that your eyes are flawless.

Yet if I know a thing or two about July,
It's that true love never dies.

And if I know about June,
It's that things can never start up too soon.

If there's anything I know of May,
It's that the cruel shall perish and pay.

If I know of April,
It's that people can grow to be hateful.

If there were something I knew of March,
It's that death's scythe claims a cruel arch.

But if I know of February,
It's that frost kisses my heart like butterflies kiss fairies.

And if I know a thing or two about January,
It's that I fear no fire, and that should make you wary.

And I know anything at all about December,
It's that the smallest memory will make your heart dismembered.

Though what I love most about November,
It's that I'm so glad you remember.

And whether you be near to me,
Or far is where you have to be,
I am here to stay,
Because even if there's a thousand miles between us,
I'm looking your way.