When Karma Speaks

 Truth is known to eyes that see,
It waits in quiet dignity;
Though hidden now by lies and blame,
It burns untouched by fear or shame.

Justice walks a patient way,
It does not rush, yet does not stray;
False words and hearts with dark intent
Build their own walls of punishment.

A day will rise, as days all do,
When mirrors show what once they threw;
And when their echoes turn them weak,
That is the hour when Karma speaks.

Then slowly, through their fall and pain,
They’ll taste the truth they once made vain;
Too late perhaps, but clear and strong
They’ll know at last they were the wrong.

White lies

All are white lies dressed in light,
Smiling faces, hearts not right;
Those who say they stand with you,
Fade away when storms break through.

We call them close, we call them near,
Yet truth is something else we hear;
They act so kind, so pure, so wise,
While shadows move behind their eyes.

Back they whisper, twist, and blame,
Throwing dirt without a name;
Let them drown in words they sell
Their shallow thoughts can go to hell.

The Hollow Within

 There’s a hollow I cannot name,
A quiet ache without a face;
As if something slipped from my hands,
Or time stole more than I could trace.

It feels like loss without goodbye,
Like someone pulled my world away;
An unseen force, a sudden shift,
That left my heart unsure to stay.

Insecurity knocks loud at night,
Whispers fears I try to hide;
It says I’m small, I’ll lose it all
That nothing good is on my side.

But maybe what is torn apart
Is only making room inside;
Maybe every shaken ground
Prepares a stronger place to stride.

Break the Spell

 Laziness wraps around my day,
A silent thief that steals my way;
Though fire within me wants to rise,
It dims beneath those heavy sighs.

It pulls me down like gentle chains,
Soft excuses, sweet remains;
I fight a little—then give in,
Like a helpless child within.

Time slips past in quiet defeat,
Dreams fall down at my own feet;
Oh God, lift me from this haze,
Guide my steps through brighter days.

Give me strength to stand and start,
Discipline within my heart;
No more surrender, no delay
Lead me on the rightful way.

Tides - Wishes

Upon the shore the restless waves arise,
With silver arms that stretch beneath the skies;
They long to reach, to hold the waiting land,

To pull it close within their cooling hand.

Each day they rush with hope’s unbroken might,
They try, retreat, then gather strength to fight;
Though knowing well the shore will never yield,
Still back they charge across the open field.

The shore just smiles beneath the sunlit ray,
Unmoved, untouched, as waters fade away;
It knows no tide can drag it to the deep,
No roaring wish can claim what it will keep.

So are our wishes—waves that rise and fall,
And goals the shore that stands beyond them all;
The struggle roars, the patient smile remains
An endless dance of losses, hopes, and gains.

Rise

 It’s not their opinion that defines your name,
Not their comparisons, not their game;
Stand tall, don’t let their shadows win,
Your strength has always lived within.

Don’t bow your head for what is gone,
The past is dusk, the future dawn;
Stop counting losses, scars, and cost,
You are not broken, you are not lost.

Focus sharp on what you can do,
There’s power burning inside of you;
Be yourself: bold, awake, alive
This is your moment. Stand. Rise. Thrive.

After the Last Train - Part 8 - Final

 

The Ordinary Days

Days did not stop.

Office emails still arrived.
Meetings were still scheduled.
Files still required signatures.

Kabir returned to work.

At first, everything felt distant, like watching life through glass.

He avoided Platform 3.

He stopped noticing autos.

Coffee became just coffee again.

Weeks passed.

The sharp pain softened.

The memories blurred at the edges.

Her voice became harder to recall clearly.

Sometimes he tried to remember how she laughed 
but the sound would fade midway.

Gradually

He stopped checking old chats.

He stopped standing near the place where it happened.

He stopped waiting.

Routine is powerful.

It fills spaces.

It covers cracks.

It teaches you how to wake up, work, eat, sleep 
without reopening wounds.

Months later, he could go through an entire day without thinking of her.

Not because she meant little.

But because life kept moving.

And so did he.

Somewhere, deep inside,
a small corner still held a train platform,
an unfinished coffee,
and a soft voice saying

“Bye… thank you so much.”

But outside

He continued.

Just another man.

Just another day.

And many more days similar like this....