Time does not exist

Time is not reality because it’s relativity.

— A theory given by Einstein

When you talk to a nice girl one hour Seems as a minute. And when you are burning your hand, a minute seems as an hour why?

Time is not a truth because truth never change, as sun is a universal truth it will be ever, sun-rise and sun-set are also just due to our ignorance and a theory invent by human for their comfort.

Time is a illusion it never exist, only it haunts our mind, time change their variability with different things, that is why there is a theory of “relativity” given with time.

And if there is no existence of a time so definetly there is no present, past and future.

They are just few sollow words but we feed them and then let them feed us. With the worry of past and fear of future.

Clearly time can not possess us, and neither we can possess time.

Time is only living in our mind we can control it by controlling our own perception towards it.

If there is a something pleasurable so we want to stay there as long as we can or stuck on that, and if something is unpleasent so we tried to skip it at the end as soon as poosible.

This is called time traveling not in a space instead in our own body.

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Love is only one

Love is not related to body at all, it straight goes into soul, It’s unexplainable, and infinite as dark covers whole.

There is no controlling on love, it is that eternal flame can’t ignite nor be quenched at will.”

Love is only one, it can never be twice and thrice, Love is formless, invisible, and transcendent. Love has different shades and layers that opened by itself.

Nidhi Suryavanshi

Poetry

Hello Everyone,

What The Heart Wants” & “The Dream”

my poems get published in magic magician book 2 “Aura of Love” by raindrop publication. Today book is out on amazon

You can buy the copy of this latest book *Aura of Love* A handi packed collection of poems and short stories on love, magic and romance. via Amazon.in

http://amzn.to/2nu8Zwb

amzn.to/2nu8Zwb

A Tribute to Ghalib

dil-e-nādāñ tujhe huā kyā hai

āḳhir is dard kī davā kyā hai

Oh errant heart, what ails you pray,

Finally, what is the cure for this ache?

ham haiñ mushtāq aur vo be-zār

yā ilāhī ye mājrā kyā hai

I’m ardent and he turns away,

Oh lord! what is this game you play?

maiñ bhī muñh meñ zabān rakhtā huuñ

kaash pūchho ki mudda.ā kyā hai

I am also capable of speech,

If only you could Just ask me what I want today,

jab ki tujh bin nahīñ koī maujūd

phir ye hañgāma ai ḳhudā kyā hai

If there is nothing apart from you, oh lord!

Then why is this turmoil and so much noisy fray?

ye parī-chehra log kaise haiñ

ġhamza o ishva o adā kyā hai

How are these angel-faced people?

What are these conventions of seductions and deceptions in a mid-way…

shikan-e-zulf-e-ambarīñ kyuuñ hai

nigah-e-chashm-e-surma sā kyā hai

Why this wrinkle and beauty’s intoxicating hair?

What gaze from those kohl-darkened eyes awake?

sabza o gul kahāñ se aa.e haiñ

abr kyā chiiz hai havā kyā hai

Where did verdure and flowers come from?

What are clouds? What is atmospheric ray?

ham ko un se vafā kī hai ummīd

jo nahīñ jānte vafā kyā hai

We hope for fidelity from them,

Who do not know, what fidelity may be or to my dismay?

haañ bhalā kar tirā bhalā hogā

aur darvesh kī sadā kyā hai

Yes, do well, well will come to you,

what else is the dervish say?

jaan tum par nisār kartā huuñ

maiñ nahīñ jāntā duā kyā hai

For you I do bequeath my life,

I never knew what it is to pray.

maiñ ne maanā ki kuchh nahīñ ‘ġhālib’

muft haath aa.e to burā kyā hai

I concede that Ghalib is nothing and worthless,

but if it comes free, then why delay?

Ghalib

Mirza Ghalib’s 220th birth anniversary: Google Doodle today pays tribute to legendary poet

Mirza Ghalib, considered to be one of the most popular and influential poets of the Urdu language, started writing poetry at the age of 11.

His verse is characterised by a lingering sadness borne of a tumultuous and often tragic life — from being orphaned at an early age, to losing all of his seven child.

He struggled financially, never holding a regular paying job but instead depending on patronage from royalty and more affluent friends.”

“But despite these hardships, Ghalib navigated his circumstances with wit, intellect, and an all-encompassing love for life.

His contributions to Urdu poetry and prose were not fully appreciated in his lifetime, but his legacy has come to be widely celebrated, most particularly for his mastery of the Urdu ghazal (amatory poem),” the post added.

In one of his letters, Ghalib describes his marriage as the second imprisonment after the initial confinement that was life itself. The idea that life is one continuous painful struggle which can end only when life itself ends.

Poetry- what kind of relation is this?

What kind of relation is this?

Do not know,

As much as I can,

Thrown away

It comes across again.

Which is this waterfall

Of sweet water,

Rest in my heart;

That continually flows,

Never stop.

Inside of me is he,

And upon me is you,

As the something light and,

Something dark.

Like the moon smiles,

On the earth over night,

As that the face of your’s

Blossom in mine…

~ Nidhi Suryavanshi