Bainash Momin

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (9th October 2021) 
          
          there is so much in us and so much we can be, like the cosmos that has been under servitude and the black hole that consumes it. there is within the sun a similar attitude; it walks the cobblestone lanes with eyes of the deceased. melted paints it wants to embellish upon the stars and pluck out the shine of its rays to decorate the leaves of autumn. 
          
          the earth moves solemnly, under the strict awareness of the watchful crowd, and it breaths yellow marigolds in hopes of being surrounded by a tree of hope. in it, on it, everywhere around it; lack of appropriate loneliness. sheer visibility of the city lights, blindness to the one from the heavens above the sky.
          
          what an agony, what a pain. jewellery like ice slitting the throat. flowers boiled in acid. the world a place of slaughter. 
          
          life is one, but lives within it many. if we choose to go beyond the doomed number, we exhaust to dust. ankles tied with ropes of responsibilities and hands with households. where rivalry thrives, it is a place of legends. the kind which carries sins and buries the oppressed. 
          
          however what of those who defy the rules? of those who, regardless of the consequences, accept war? 
          they become the kissable sea, the immortal air, the glorious sky and the soft universe.
          
          be the sun, the stars and the sky all together. if they admire you from afar, it is because they each see themselves in you.
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (7th October 2021) 
          
          the sun is a relative of the old- which associated with the scarves of the dried flowers of the gone days. it has lived through jolts of dreams and eyes that held terror of desperation. the lives that lived only upon the preface of the rays, making a temporary home out of fire. 
          
          and what can be said about the moon except that seldom has it lightened its own path. it has and continues to work for the waves; the blades of which are as sharp as the flamingo's stare. it appears, it flourishes but feels foolish and stupid. it is never there by free will and is pitied upon by the sun's flames. decades upon decades of sacrifice for nothing but a few moments of pleasant lingering.
          
          the sun and the ocean are beautiful standstills; like time that has tasted oaks and horns and like seasons of dare coarsing through sorrows. they hold much; they bury misty breaths and golden glares, and they cherish the crippled yellow leaves like revenge. 
          
          but one must accept that beauty is heavy; a burden like the crisp October that balances between summer and winter. and one must stand still, hold onto elements of protection, the scabbed bits of dressed wounds. 
          
          everything beautiful is terrifying. perfection is wild; the ocean a spectacular depiction. all that which has been cursed by the needle of beauty, has used the thread of terror. perfection dies, what remains are the details. the scabs, the scars, the fine lines of torture evident upon the palette.
          
          perhaps the sun is feared for the very reason. for the love it serves and the fire that it can kill with its venom. 
          
          how else can beauty be perceived? it is common to both life and death and apparent alike in a human's blood and sweat. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (30th September 2021) 
          
          i have dwelled too sternly, with a mind of glass into universes where things fell apart like the burnt and crumbled edges of a paper of allegory.
          
          masses have consumed what the world produced and decorated unprotected, and have brought to life that which was better off as a story; of the dark and its glory. 
          
          the sun perhaps was sweeter and once a soothing moonlight kiss until it began to prick the sky beyong its capacity, causing it to have cursed itself, in a sky as attractive as an enemy. 
          
          in the universe, there is serenity; a little bliss and a little mystery. however mystery has no significance, it is merely one that is shaped like an illusion. 
          
          and humans? what holds you face first in the in the deep waters; pairs of hands around or the reckoning pulse in your nerves?
          
          lies and lies everywhere; within them and within you. scream like the swatch of fire that lines your voice or align your heart with the doom of the treacherous; your body will remain an aesthetic fabrication. 
          
          forget it all, there is nothing but a little show around you. watch, indulge, participate and forget. like death has taught us. forget. 
          
          there is little to regret if you forget. not everything in life has to be regarded with a purpose. at times if life has handed you lemons, it has done so without a hidden reason.
          
          we have begun to run after life, desperately with hands folded, but we forget that we are not dead yet. 
          
          life is illegible; drink it like you would the sun in its everyday mourning. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          

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Just noticed you've given my story a chance. So I'm dropping by to let you know that I truly appreciate it and hope you'll find my work worth-it. Feedback and comments are more than welcome. Once again, thank you so much for making my day better <3 

a small token of kindness (19th July 2021) 
          
          some days are mundane. it is just a characteristic feature of certain weeks or hours to be simply uninteresting and empty. 
          like the sky has no clouds and the night has no stars. 
          like the earth has no human to weep for it and life has no one to appreciate it. 
          like the flower has no happiness and the birds have no will power to claim the sky. 
          
          such hours are inevitable. one cannot move past them without feeling the effects of it. and we cannot skip either with the thought of avoiding it. 
          
          you have to face each day no matter what it appears like. just as the sun that rises despite finding the sky empty and the moon that shines alone in a starless ground. 
          indeed, all days are unique. perhaps they are a little solemn compared to others but they carry their own spectrum of light. and anyone who chooses to understand their range while working with consistency and dedication will find his day improve as time progresses. 
          
          you cannot merely avoid the day or give up on it for the reason that the clouds too were not present with the sun. your time is precious, it is limited. each day brings its own death and each death its own end. each day you live a little and die a little. make the most of your life and feel your end a bit. it is highly neccesary that you passionately fixate your mind and will over what you desire to attain. nothing should be able to separate you from your dreams. you and your goals are precious. and you must fight for them each day, every hour and perhaps even every minute. 
          
          time, my dear, can be clever. it can use you for its benefit and not the other way around.
          
          
          and therefore, you must ensure that you walk the day or even crawl (you need not neccesarily run), if you do not want it to run you. 

a small token of kindness (dated 11 July 2021) 
          
          it is so often that we work hard, put our blood and sweat into something, with absolutely nothing that comes in return. no appreciation, no positive feedback and no sound praise. more like we worked for nothing. 
          yes, it is absolutely normal to feel dejected and burnt out with no reason to continue any more. 
          but life does not work that way. it is all about the ones who die death upon death. it is about the ones who can come back stronger when failure touches them. it is about the ones who do not know what giving up even means. it is about the ones who strive and fight for what they wish to earn. 
          and you know want to know a secret? we have all always had a certain golden spoon in our mouths. 
          you know what it is? 
          time. 
          they say that we cannot appreciate a blessing while it is present and in abundance too.
          the ones who use this spoon wisely truly find their lives to have become as precious and shiny as gold. 
          if they can do it, with just a wise usage of time, then why can't you?
          this is your reminder to never find a reason to stop. to beat yourself and fight for your dreams. 
          anyone can dream about those medals and trophies, but it takes real courage to wake up and still have the willpower to fight for holding them in your hands. 

Thanks for the follow!

Hello Bainash!
          Thank you for following me.
          I hope you'll have a good time reading my books.
          Kind regards,
          MJ