Abhey Gupta

Tag: Loneliness

  • No More

    He stares out through the window,
    a stranger groaning, alone, outside;
    a sight of something wrong reaches him,
    and he no longer looks beyond.

    Thinking, over and over, far away,
    the source of his thoughts perplexes him —
    guessing what might become of the stranger,
    he is whirled into his own world of grief.

    He realizes his own misdeeds,
    the bad words he so often spoke,
    and comes back, full circle, to belief;
    obsession had once held its power over him.

    He looks outside once more, estranged,
    and this time his gaze finds the moon —
    alone, shining, giving light to others,
    holding so much, yet so little vanity.

    It never asks for anything; it has its own.
    And feeling how small his pain is
    beside that quiet, overarching light,
    he stops thinking only in the verse of “me.”

    He moves beyond the personal —
    and he is in sadness no more.

  • Hate is Still

    A long, unsleeping night,
    a day that never sees its dawn,
    a light that never reaches its destination —
    just shades of a darker, all-too-real life.

    He is not so distant from you,
    yet a bridge still stands between you;
    he is not afraid of fate or fortune —
    but why is he so different now?

    His questions are a paranoid memory,
    needing a listener to be shared;
    control is not all that he needs.
    Is he searching for the unsaid question?

    Rise above all the bargaining and melancholy —
    darkness is all he loves now.
    You give him sorrow; he confronts it.
    At least it’s hate she is still giving him.

  • All Again Alone

    Ashes from a past of fire —
    some through my eyes, some upon old wounds.
    Unknown fragments of who I was,
    perhaps reborn somewhere,
    have begun to dominate my present.
    I justify myself — but am I really immune?

    Ciphers and deep secrets speak,
    and I am lost somewhere within them.
    It was never friendly to me —
    all this taking and throwing away,
    crossing the river, left undone at last,
    trying every effort to subdue my deeds,
    to dub over that lost ray of what came before.
    But I have shaken it off — all of it — again, alone.

  • न किया होता

    तन्हाई के पल से जब मिले हम,
    दिल में न जाने कहाँ एक टीस हुई।
    सोचा — प्यार की रचना किसने की?
    उस दिन तुम्हारे प्यार की याद आई।

    सोचा — किसने, कैसे, और क्यों बनाया?
    कभी ख़ुशी की बारिश होती है,
    कभी अपने ही लहू के आँसू की।
    लेकिन एक बात मेरी समझ ज़रूर आई:

    न किया होता प्यार हमने तुमसे,
    शायद ऐसे कथन तो न होते;
    यूँ रात को तन्हाई में जागे न होते,
    तुम्हारी याद में यूँ तो न रोते।

    न जाने कितने और ऐसे होंगे,
    कितने ही मेरे जैसे अकेले होंगे।
    मुझे नहीं पता, क्या होगा मेरा,
    जीवन के किस मोड़ पर जाऊँगा।

    पर यह नज़ाकत समझ तो आ गई —
    इश्क़ से बड़ी कोई सज़ा नहीं होती।
    काश हमने भी इश्क़ न किया होता,
    तन्हाई का दर्द हमें भी न होता,
    वक़्त की चोट से यूँ रूबरू न होते,
    न ही कोई हमें रुलाने वाला होता।

  • Let Me Die

    Lord, my Lord — let me sleep forever.
    Restless is my soul; let it rest forever.
    This shallow heart is more complex than ever —
    let me die, in spirit, tonight.

    I died a long time ago, in every way but body;
    now, today, let me sleep endlessly.
    Say my prayers, and remember everyone;
    let my wandering soul rest in your garden.

    A martyr I am not,
    a flower of love I do not have —
    only a boulevard of longing dreams
    that shattered my mind with a knife of panic.

    Let me rest today, completely.

  • Don’t Have Now

    One day, hurt and confused,
    I looked around — where am I?
    I was trying to find myself again,
    but the mirror of my guilt stood before me.

    I looked at him; he stared back at me.
    Tired, at last, of trying to neglect him,
    he still followed me —
    am I his shadow, or is he me?

    Confusing… but at least it is my own.
    I thought as much, and moved on,
    yet paranoia was all I felt;
    there was nothing left to see.

    I have come to understand one thing:
    running away was never the solution.
    What shall I tell my soul now,
    lost in the depth of all I don’t have now?

  • World He Left Behind

    As a child, he was free—
    free to speak, to laugh, to do as he pleased.
    As a child, he had a way
    of hiding, of losing himself in a dream.

    Pain, sorrow, and hurt
    were nowhere along his path.
    Tears still came, and often—
    but not from helplessness, as they do now.

    Anger was never a friend of his;
    now he cannot live without it.
    He was once immune to jealousy;
    now he is a patient of it.

    Logical or illogical,
    he never used to care—
    now, time and again, he must ask:
    am I even right enough to cope?

    Isn’t he lost in this vast world,
    where only the hunger for money is left to feel?
    He owns everything he has—
    but for that, he sold his soul.

    His eyes speak every word
    he cannot say: he longs to fly free.
    No one sees how alone he is,
    fallen so low, as if he were the only one.

    But fiercely he vows
    he will not break, will not cry anymore;
    he will face it all alone.
    And drawing a single breath, he left—

    with one ray of light
    to find the world he had lost,
    and build a world of his own,
    living inside a dream
    to find the world he left behind.

  • Even With You Here

    Even with you here at night,
    I’m lost in the depths of darkness.

    No light to be seen—only the curse of pain,
    as sorrow weaves its web of solitude.

    Ecstasy rides the fresh-rain breeze,
    yet far away a tunnel of nostalgia beckons.
    My soul is snared by the monster of loneliness.

    The sun rises, banishing the night,
    yet my soul stays shrouded in confusion.

    I wish to wander through the night,
    where no one would ever know
    that I cry for you in silence.

  • Realm of I and We

    I wonder where we are headed next,
    From realm to realm, through hate and devilment.
    A single heartfelt tear, cried long ago,
    With untold, hidden pain—destined to remain so.

    My eyes, lost in deep contemplation,
    I find myself again in the realm of I and we.
    Pretending to be fearless, I donned my masks,
    but, ruled by my own soul, I broke into myself.

    Light is a realm that reveals another realm;
    I opened my eyes to an untold time,
    yet again I found myself—thoughtless, speechless—
    embarking on a journey to know the realm of I and we.

    An illusion that, inside a maze, seems so real;
    darkness is all I see, fear is all I feel.
    I evolved through countless other realms, quixotically,
    and felt it all within me, perpetually.

    Life went on—the same days, the same nights—
    yet I found myself living in the realm of I and we.