Thousands of miles away,

In the land where they both lived,

A sharp cry stifled in the air.

Alarmed and entranced they broke away from their embrace,

As the sweat trickled down his forehead,

She caressed his head and smiled,

But tight lipped.

He knew she was shivering within,

Her hands turned white and cold,

And the silence was killing within,

He craved to find comfort in her,

But what a killjoy were the bullets,

That they pierced the skin of his beloved

And there she lay sans any color

Or life, but with hope

That she embodied for as long as she lived.

Her body fell limp,

His flesh turned blue,

And his widened eyes ceased not to find beauty,

But he sure did find no beats

that always told him everything was okay.

And she...was Dead.

As the rain poured heavily,

He dug the pit

To bury the beloved as she was to become one with the soil

He pressed his lips too tightly on her forehead

And pecked her chapped lips

That barely was pink.

As he lowered her to the ground,

Perhaps her prayers had prevented him

From falling deep into the pit

To become a soulless being,

Just not like her.

She was dead perhaps,

But she had too much of life in her,

And she had lived way too much in everyone's smile,

That she could never be told to be dead.

He had done nothing as such as her.

Whereas she left the pieces of her heart

to the beloved ones,

His cold demeanor only scared those kids

Who draped their arms around her waist.

But when it came to her,

Never did he cease to love her

Cradle her, cherish and respect,

For her, he shun the darkness of his world,

And let light enter.

And when the torch that guided

Burnt off with the breeze that caressed him,

Where shall he find light?

When he would return fatigued and stained with coal,

From the long hours of labor work

She would stand and smile,

Welcome him home - her two arms.

He would say late into the night,

As they would shut their eyes for slumber,

''I'd die for you'',

And she would smile and say,

''Live for me, and that is how you'll find my love''.

Perhaps she may be gone,

But she was alive in every sense of his,

And those around.

As a refugee, he rose up from the mud,

And crossed seas to escape the roaring of the bullets,

Some would harass and say

That he belonged not in a foreign land,

And his existence was a crime

While some would listen to his tale of sorrow

And cry until 'morrow arrived.

But later, forgotten.

Live for me she had said,

So he belonged though he couldn't stick,

He smiled though he shattered.

In a land he knew none,

He seeped in to find his home.

A love like that it was,

That made him to find the purpose,

That made him find the True Light,

And he knew all along,

That his love merely put him on the pathway,

To find the purpose of eternity,

And that is how he learnt to grow

Grow to love, share and worship Him,

To realize that this world was not run by beings,

But by the creator of all.

She broke him to put himself together,

She painted to find his color,

She shed tears to wipe his dirt,

And though she wasn't there to comfort,

She taught him to find real comfort,

She taught him peace

When missiles rained down the sky,

When the roof fell apart,

She taught him to rise from hardships,

Before rising from the rubbles.

A love like that it was,

It was given without expecting anything back,

She begged not for his love,

And he begged not either,

And that is why they stayed in love

Not merely fell in love.

Now in a foreign land

That is not so foreign anymore,

The children she loved

Draped their arms around his waist,

As the walls around him crumbled,

The flesh within him trembled,

His scattered fragments glued together now

By the whispers and gestures of affection.

Verily, man does not find tranquility,

When he is at war with himself and others,

Even if he were to be atop the serene Alps.

Indeed man finds tranquility,

If he is at peace with himself and those around,

Even if he were to be amidst bloodshed

and under the skies where bullets rain down.

So many lessons she taught,

Without uttering a syllable.

If her silence could turn a sinner into a saint,

What would her voice do?

This he wondered as he dreamt of uniting in the Gardens of eternity,

All that this sinner would take with him to his grime

Would be his deeds that he put forth

By the Mercy of the One above.

How beautiful is it that some people

Come into our lives with a wave of beauty

That is not reflected on their fair skin,

But their serene smiles,

And would depart before their fingers could entwine,

Truly, if they were not a sign and a lesson,

Then, where you O' mankind,

Would find the truth?

Cherish the ones who cherish you,

And if you are the one to cherish,

Wait for the right ones to come by,

To hold you close and rain down the verses of affection.

Don't break yourself to fix someone

who wouldn't ever put the broken pieces of yours back.

For true love doesn't work like that,

It is given and taken sans expectations,

And home, is a place of comfort.

If those arms that were to hold you

strangle you out of distaste,

Then know that they don't love you.

Find what you deserve,

And build your abode in a trait stronger than love-

Affection, mercy and trust.

For love is always secondary to care and faith.

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