SAJID HUSSAIN

 

 

The Dome Of My Domain

 

Wheels of trade are crushing threads of life,

Sober moments linger in grinding process,

Under the vaulted sky the freshet of native wildness,

Exhibits measures of its austerity in spectacles,

Spirit the frantic modesty to breach tempted ramp,

As the moon's white flame with night darkness,

New born age through silent haunted years,

Hits all around the marks of wrinkles,

Scoring like on a dried apple the crinkles,

The world's rejected gust comes to thaw,

To build a gigantic fortress of my tomb stone,

A seed of agony falls on veil of night,

On the noisy waves endures prolong anguish,

Gray burning candles feed flames of cliches,

Flashing beams emit darting blaze,

Crawled by years a dynasty of whirls,

Awakes domestic forbearance of sufferings,

Uplifting their stony peaks around the edges ,

Pents up a storm craving for outlet,

Dropping abruption in silent autumn cry in pain,

Seems vague thought in stream of life,

Shaping elliptically the dome of my domain,

Riot of senses haunts the ghosts of their sounds,

Free mountain winds carry them on waves of wild sea,

The new century doomed soul in wilderness,

Like a snarling beast baulked to its prey,

Senses the barren regrets flooding to mind,

A flask of old trust clings me to its wine,

Settled on a shadow my mind on hazy vision,

Mirrors the life like a twist of rotten silk.

 

In The Veins Of Mist

 

Beyond the veil were dust and mist alone,

A traveller was I, yet journey there was none,

The tale once bound by threads was bore of grief,

Though paths bended beneath celestial turns.

 

I walked through clocks that melted into breath,

Where roads were stitched from shadows of desire,

Each turn revealed a mirror with no face,

Each milestone sang but vanished into fire.

 

Ideas rained like feathers made of glass,

Breaking soundlessly on the floor of thought,

I sought the ones who dwelled behind my eyes,

But found them drowning in a glass of haze.

 

No sorrow wept beneath the laughing moon,

I moved, yet floated in a static sea,

Time wore a cloak of whispering spectral wings,

And space knelt quiet at memory's rusted gate.

 

The spring I chased turned into mirrored smoke,

And kissed the void with incandescent flames.

My river slept inside a cave of wind,

No wave disturbs the mirror of my stream.

 

No voice, no flame, no herald of the dream,

No beacon flares, no shore, no destiny,

No wave stirs forth within my silent sea,

In endless pursuit my compass turned to mist.

 

In the orbit of seeking lost my compass,

Diverts in the agony of smouldering path,

Each step dissolves into a vow forsaken,

And vanishes beneath eternity's breathless veil.

 

At the Edge of Evening

 

I am the solitary pilgrim of approaching dusk,

Enrobed in the dust of innumerable roads,

Around me gathers the expanding dominion of shadow,

While the horizon relinquishes its last inheritance of light,

Unceasingly I advance toward an unseen direction,

Compelled alike by temporal necessity and distant purpose,

The sediment of long fatigue clings to my passage,

And the road has inscribed its history upon my face,

I await the ceremonial awakening of lamps,

Trusting that some beacon still remembers my name,

Soon the sovereign sun shall descend beyond vision,

And daylight shall surrender its final testament to silence,

Yet I must attain my destination before nightfall,

Lest darkness claim me within an anonymous wilderness,

Time decrees that I linger nowhere along the way,

Though weariness has rendered my body a broken vessel,

The birds have returned to their sanctuaries of rest,

And shepherds have guided their flocks toward home,

Dust wanders through the restless breath of evening winds,

While creation folds itself into contemplative stillness,

Unresolved judgments yet inhabit the chambers of thought,

And I question the object of my waiting,

For the road continually summons my onward movement,

While destiny extends its invisible hand before me,

I must arrive where night's refuge may be found,

Before the last traces of day are extinguished,

The pilgrimage may bear me beyond remembrance,

Into regions where neither light nor identity endures.

 

SAJID HUSSAIN

 

Dr. SAJID HUSSAIN, born on 1 February 1969 in Morgah, Rawalpindi, Pakistan, is an internationally recognized Pakistani poet, educator, master trainer, literary promoter, and homeopathic doctor. He is widely known for his contributions to contemporary English literature, peace advocacy, cultural dialogue, and educational development. Professionally, he serves as a Senior Chemistry Teacher under the Federal Directorate of Education, Islamabad. He is also a Master Trainer of “Low Cost and No Cost Science Material,” contributing significantly to science education and innovative teaching methodologies. In addition, he has served as Principal of Jinnah Public School, Rawalpindi, and practices as a homeopathic doctor. Dr. Hussain is the President of CIESART Headquarters Pakistan (International Chamber of Writers and Artists, Spain) and is affiliated with several international literary organizations, including the World Nation Writers’ Union, Kazakhstan. Through his literary and cultural engagements, he has promoted intercultural understanding, peace, human rights, environmental awareness, and humanitarian values.