کانپ اُٹھتی ہوں یہی سوچ کہ تنہائی میں
میرے چہرے پہ تیرا نام نہ پڑھ لے کوئی
I tremble in fear when I think in solitude
What if someone reads your name on my face…
بند کمرے میں کبھی میری طرح
شام کے وقت وہ رویا کہ نہیں
At night, behind closed doors of a room
I wonder, whether like me, he wept or not…
I hunger for your taste, your smell, the feel of your soul touching mine.
Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.
Sometimes the way in is a song.
But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,
To enter stone, be water.
To rise through hard earth, be plant
desiring sunlight, believing in water.
To entire fire, be dry.
To enter life, be food.
Being an outsider to some extent, someone who does not “fit in” with others or is rejected by them for whatever reason, makes life difficult, but it also places you at an advantage as far as enlightenment is concerned. It takes you out of unconsciousness almost by force.