With a fragile inner light
I step forward—an intervention.
Moments pass, and the restless heart
finds only a brief respite.
Words do not bloom into showers;
a fair of countless, titleless words
waits—longing to be spoken,
while four bloodshot eyes remain ignored.
Again, drawing to a close, yet moving forward
across finite distances—
regret lingers:
the sorrow of a thousand unspoken words.
Nights blend into days
as though drinking poison.
Under the urging of wisdom
the mind overturns itself.
A new horizon dawns—
and yet, to explain this inner light
is a burden almost too great to bear.
The gaze of hardened hearts
is painful to read;
even the tender glances of soft hearts
remain ineffably elusive.
Now, crossing a thousand waves of the sea,
pressing forward—
each ripple of water
carries the echo of his words.
Learning, practice, reflection—
all weigh heavily on thought;
from harsh to harsher, those gazes
touch the tender heart
wrapped in a fragile cloak of softness.
The eternal rustle of his leaves,
the murmur of laughter,
pull me back again and again.
There is nothing to answer—
only the waiting of countless moments
returns.
To internalize the innermost,
to dwell within it as the Creator does,
is grace beyond reach.
On the endless path
of making the impossible possible
he walks beside me—
like the tiniest line in a vast epic
whose meaning perhaps only Dukhu Mia could explain.
Yet I wait
for that singular meeting.
That meeting could calm the mind,
yet this storm-torn chest
burns to show him every wound.
With a silent, tireless heart
weaving dreams endlessly,
perhaps one day I shall stand again—
with burning eyes—
and behold that smile of serenity.
Alone, the mind lingers;
hours refuse to halt.
Change, moving in its own rhythm,
carries me along.
The heart’s desire races forward,
yet halts before him.
A crisis of time,
the turning point of life—
in a fleeting phrase
begins a friendship meant to last eternity.
Songs no longer bind my heart;
their lines sink deep
into the endless abyss of his eyes.
With eyes scorched, I cannot even gaze—
and to lose him?
Unthinkable.
Eyes burning to ashes,
I wait
just to see him once.
The lines do not end;
the longing to see my friend—
the fear of voicing these words—
delays the poem’s close.
Days pass,
nights slip away.
Have I moved forward,
leaving a thousand adversities behind?
Will I see him again—
for a moment,
or for a lifetime?
Compelled to write a conclusion,
I must say:
an unbelievable, ineffable, infinite bond—
a rare beginning.
Through rain-blurred eyes
that vision matters most.
O you—
for you alone
I begin counting
the strikes of waiting.
DoubleSpeak 