As there I sat silent and idle

A dead small voice spoke to me

“Though you are so full of misery

Were it not better not to be?”

I thought it once, yet again I thought

What it said was right or not

Self blinded I was by my pride

And harsh seemed the world from every sight

But then, I recalled the worlds my father said

Look up through night, the world is wide

And when I pondered this thought

Arouse the dark moaning voice

“Though you are steeped in misery

Surely it were better not to be

Your anger will not let you sleep

And you cannot much think, but shall only weep”

A crystal silence was castled unto me

The words it spoke, cannot be ignored

Then I glanced the light piercing through sky

Some beamed mild and some with great intense

Could I too, like them make some difference?

Or be forgotten, in this world of sense?

Laughed there the voice that never laughed

But to tease the ones, who lost their path

“You have not gained any real height

Nor are you any nearer to the light

Your all hopes, shall be ended in smokes

Because the scale to go is infinite”

“Nay” I replied to the very voice

Such words may not bring me any closer to death

If, for you, I went to the world far away

And met death as you will to say

My funeral would go unwept, unhonoured and unsung

And people would speak of me in low

Doing dishonor, again to my clay

And such shame, my soul cannot bare

“This is more vile” he made reply

“To breathe and strive, to live and sigh

Than once from dread of pain to die

Useless you are, sick and ill

Fear of men, but a coward still”

“O dull one sided voice” said I

You will make everything but a lie

To flatter me that I may die

But I am a man, full of hopes

And your words for some, may be true

But these for me are piety jokes

I could as you say, rot like a weed

And meet death, the darkest shade

But will to sow, some generous seed

Which enlights the heart, that forgot to beat

And fruitful it becomes, pure of thought and deed

And wish to live, rather than sleep

I saw a man at his work

Rowing hard against the stream

Saw distant gates of Heaven gleam

Sowing himself in every wind

A didn’t dream it was a dream

And seemed to hear a heavenly friend

I recalled the words Tennyson said,

“A life of nothings, nothing worth

From that first nothing ere his birth

To that last nothing under earth”

But these thoughts comes to such

Having a healthy mind and owning a pure heart

Moreover, something is or seems

That touches me with mystic gleams

Soft, cold like breeze it feels

Like some glimpses of forgotten dreams

Of something felt, like something there

Of something done, I know not where

I paced my way through the forest

And felt the mystic smell enriching my Brest

Making me feel a man who always was blest

The leaves, the flowers why seemed so new

Alas! My frozen heart began to beat

Remembering its ancient heat

I passed the stream and wandered on

The dull and bitter voice was gone

But a second voice was at my ear

A little whisper silver clear

A murmur, “Be of a better cheer”

I smiled and asked it further

What is it you know, sweet voice?

“A hidden hope”, the voice replied

I wondered as I paced along

The nature was filled, so full with songs

There seemed no room for sense of wrong

Just the leaves dancing here and there

So different seemed all things wrought

I wonder how the mind was brought

To anchor out of many, one gloomy thought

And therefore, today I made a choice

To commune with that sweet voice

Then follow that said, “My men, rejoice rejoice!”

-Sameer Ahmed Khan