These chains of breath,
This ruthless arrow of time,
These passing moments,
These scattered emotions,
This silence that speaks,
These eyes that question—
They all say:
That I exist,
And yet, I am not complete.

This life is a book,
Sometimes open, sometimes closed,
Sometimes shaped into words,
Sometimes it escapes the lines.
Sometimes it flows through the eyes,
Sometimes it hides in a corner of the heart.

At times, we wished to touch our dreams,
But the wall of reality stopped us.
The heart once urged to love,
But reason warned, “It’s a deception.”
There was a time when the flame of hope burned bright,
Every night promised a new dawn.
But now, time moves so fast
That even moments feel like burdens,
And breathing seems like a debt.

Sometimes I wonder—
Is everything mortal?
Do feelings also fade?
Was the laughter, the tears,
The colors on faces—
All just dreams? Or mere illusions?

In the wardrobe of memories,
Some pictures still remain,
Time has blurred some faces,
Some voices are no longer heard,
But the heart knows—
They were all real,
Precious writings of a time once lived.

Once, I feared loneliness,
Now, loneliness has become a friend.
Once, I was ashamed to cry,
Now the eyes flow on their own.
There was once someone who held my hand,
Now I’ve learned to hold myself.
Someone’s name was once my heartbeat,
Now it’s just a silence.

Life has taught me much—
Whom to distance from and when,
Whom not to trust,
When to look within,
And when to give words to silence.

Every night leaves a lesson—
Don’t lose your voice in the world’s noise,
And don’t erase your essence in the storm of time.

Every person is a book—
Some incomplete stories,
Some closed lines,
Some secrets,
Some pain,
Some never shared with anyone.

And me?
I’ve gotten lost in all of them.
A traveler who knows neither the destination,
Nor the map of the path,
Just keeps walking—
Sometimes supported by hope,
Sometimes lifted by prayer,
Sometimes out of sheer habit.

Some people came along,
They said:
“You are special, you are whole,”
But their eyes held little truth,
More a curtain of sympathy.
Others said:
“You are shattered,
Hard to piece back together,”
But their words held sincere pain—
They were mirrors.

Now I’m piecing myself back together—
Broken dreams,
Incomplete prayers,
Fleeting moments,
The laughter of childhood,
The fragrance of my mother’s lap,
Pages of an old book,
A letter from an unspoken love—
Gathering all to build
A new “me.”

This “me” is not who I was yesterday,
It is who I am now,
Who I’m becoming every moment.
This “me” knows how to fight time,
How to hide wounds behind smiles,
And how to turn sorrow into words,
And those words into healing.

And now—
I have realized
That being whole is not necessary.
Living,
Learning,
Loving—
That is true success.

This journey,
Is the true secret,
The real poetry,
The deepest prayer.

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Epilogue:

This poem is a narrative of inner contradictions, journey, rebellion, acceptance, and the reuniting with the self.
Being complete is not about appearing whole to the world, but understanding oneself from within.

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The Journey of the Self (Reflection)

Human life is not merely about worldly destinations, but a constant inner journey.
This journey, which we call Safar-e-Zaat, is outwardly silent, but in truth, it is the deepest, longest, and most complex path.
It is not tied to any geography, nor bound by any map.
It’s a path that runs between the heart and the mind, descending into the depths of the soul.

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Beginning: Alienation from the Self

Every person goes through a phase where they become a stranger to their own being.
The world around them—relationships, responsibilities, desires, and social demands—blurs their true identity.
The original “me” hides beneath societal masks.
This is where the journey begins—
Questions arise:
“Who am I?”
“What is my truth?”
“Are my choices truly mine, or shaped by the world?”

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Light: The Ascent of the Inner Self

The journey of the self doesn’t end at a destination, but leads to a state—
A state of inner illumination.
Such people, when silent, make their silence speak.
Their presence brings peace,
Their character radiates light.
These are those who have dived deep into their own being,
Recognized truth, and improved themselves.
They know that to change the world,
One must first change oneself.

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Conclusion: An Ongoing Journey

The most beautiful aspect of Safar-e-Zaat is that it never truly ends.
Each day brings a new question,
Each night a new search.
This journey makes a person truly human—
Sensitive, aware, dignified.

There are thousands of ways to live in this world,
But only those truly live who come to know themselves.

To seek oneself is the real freedom.
To know oneself is the true knowledge.
And to accept oneself—this is true worship.

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Final Line:

One who is unaware of themselves,
How can they ever truly understand another?
And the one who discovers themselves—
They discover everything.

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