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On a…

On a busy street, named Orleans,
I play the jazz, from my toes.
Music is not going to erase it away…

On a rainy day, named Katrina,
I play hide and seek, from the raindrops.
The weather is not going to dry them away…

On a windowsill, named Washington,
I play freedom, from my caged soul.
The view is not going to make me blind to fight away the sight…

On a bright night named Karachi,
I play a maiden, from my past.
The euphoria is not going to stop my Van Gogh…

On a flying mat, named Rumi,
I play a hermit, from the pearl of foolishness.
The mystic flute is not going to offer me a refuge…

On a highway named Karbala,
I play a sufi, from my ‘atheist’ being.
And the memory comes flowing in to help me find my way home…


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