For most, evenings are the end of a tiring day;

to only some, they mark the end of a tiring life

But the dying sun always reminds us of moments;

soft caresses of love or cruelty as sharp as a knife

When the colours make love in the East;

a new day is born filled with hope and joy

The city is hushed with fear lurking over its walls;

the hearts as silent as forgotten tombs of the old

But this April morning gives a promising smile;

good times are coming, just be patient and bold

Within the black heart of this cruel old city,

are thousands of streets, dark and unnamed

Neither any claim to fame nor any beauty;

there are no secrets nor history claimed

‘What do you see when you watch the evening sky?’

The old man inside me asked with a slight smile

‘Do you see the bellies of the clouds pregnant with darkness;

Or do you see the smile of the bright silver lining?’

The future of this country does not exist in either religion or politics. It exists within the eyes of the children roaming its thousands of nameless streets. How we treat them and how we ensure a better, safe and bright future for them, is how we can build up our country. Long Live Pakistan!

It is not only the nobly moral captains,

who choose to go down with their ships

Some see their doom but follow it still;

with a cold heart and a smile on their lips

Amidst this mass of the sodden humanity;

there exists a tribe of the wretched failures

They go by many names, noble and pathetic;

the dreamers, the lovers and even the saviors