Oski uljhano mai bhi ik adda thi

oski uljhano mai bhi ik adda thi
oski her uljhan oski zulfoun ki tarhan, ik ghata thi

woh dewarain tor dyti thi, oun sy takra ker
osme himmat thi, aur yahi oski saza thi

uraan ounchi thi oski, bey laag
musibat hi toh thi woh, nehayat bey baak

tora, phir tora, aur phir sy tora
khud ko samaytnay k liye
osne apne ko phir khud sy tora

toot k bikharnay ka jash manaya
jisko woh zalim bardasht na ker paya

She is the Art ..

Art is messy, artists even messier .. 

For the one who thinks, for the one who feels, for the one who observes, and for the one who love, mess is everything. Mess is where it all begins, mess is where you learn to pick up the pieces, mess is where the tears are, mess is where the fears are .. 

In those tears you learn to love, in these tears you learn to grow, in these tears you learn to let go.. 

For as clueless as you always have been, clues are not what you look for, you look for the words. Lots and lots of words, for the words repeated again and again can bring back the trust which was once lost because of the actions. Words will break the walls, walls so high you can't see past them. Walls so fragile you cant even touch them, walls so strong you cant even knock them... 

You are beginning again.. you are building again the stairs. Stairs so you can climb the walls, step on them, watch the view from the high .. view is very different from the top. The good part is she is not scared of the heights, she has jumped already from a mountain.. she will stand tall on the wall to enjoy the light fountain ,,

Feet on the ground, heart in the air, dreams in the sky, tears in the eyes, she has begun to live the life.. 

For what it's worth.. She is the Art ..