Noor Unnahar Quotes

yesterday — i was the moon today — just an eclipse something in me travels; some days it’s to the dark some days it’s to the light

in pieces yet at peace i am a building in a post war city

i want stars, strength, and balance in my soul it's been a while since they were last together in me

the kind people are running this world they don't know how their one little smile has saved many lives

like the anger of fire shapes metal like the sorrow of a writer creates poetry everything that is beautiful doesn't always start beautifully

i share a legacy with the sky we both know how to carry some unanswered prayers and some unshed tears {the sky & i}

nothing teaches better than this trio the fears, the tears, the years

isn't it breathtakingly beautiful how you've learned to grow flowers from the memories that died a long time ago

i carry the stories the sadness the victories of people before me i'm both a monument and a future skyscraper rising from the same skeleton

you’re the moon and the world is a lonely wolf; it cries at the sight of you for you are glorious and so out of reach

Everything that is beautiful doesn't always start beautifully.

Dreams live as long as the dreamers do.

you remind me of my favorite metropolis sparkling, loud yet hauntingly sad when the light goes out

I am fighting my losses, my trauma, and everything bringing ache because I don't want to look in the mirror and see a tragedy staring back.

do not worry about people they're wearing the same flesh breathing the same chemicals walking on the same solid earth as you so why should it matter when you are them and they are you

You existence reminded me of sunsets and ocean waves yet you still wonder what it took for me to fall for someone like you

people leave because unlike matter that has firm, solid, strong molecules people are made up of air, fire, earth and water that change shapes that keep moving that cannot stop and let them be the things they want the shapes they like because in the end you too will grow into something entirely new so let them go

The universe is a brilliant writer,
 it wrote your name
in my stars
 before any of us existed
 so when the time comes
 they’ll light up your path
 and lead you straight to me.

the most beautiful thing in this world isn’t made up of particles. it’s the strength of a person who has seen the collapse of their world, everything they held dear crashing down in a million pieces. yet every morning, they wake up and build their life, all over again. mourning their loss in a tranquil silence. i haven’t yet seen anything more astonishingly beautiful.

Be kind for this is something a lot of people can never be.

I want to travel to be away from home so that I can return, loving it as much as it deserves to be loved. I want to go away from home just for returning back here to realize everything I have ever neglected is worth loving and worrying for.

the price of leaving is everything you do not return to a place but to a memory; soundless a home becomes another house a face becomes another name a city becomes another geographical location when you leave

Nothing teaches better than this trio the fears, the tears, the years.

You'll have to learn the art of losing, choosing, and refusing to win what we call the game of life.

Words; they are powerlessly powerful so use yours well.

What if we started naming heartbreaks after people like they do with storms on news channels how would this heart look with name tags?

Everything that is beautiful doesn't always start beautifully.

the idea of destruction keeps running through my veins like blood yet my bones hold the will to create everyday blood and bones in me clash to create something; to destroy something

when you fall do it gloriously collapse like a glass building sink like a gigantic ship and when you’re done sinking and collapsing and sinking and collapsing build yourself with your wreckage

i am too afraid of people who have souls like hometowns warm, forgiving and too kind that even if you leave; even when you leave will always welcome you home remember you with your family name i am too afraid of something too homely when every breath coming out of my body is shaped like leaving

i can fix a lot of things but cannot mend a broken heart for it is too fragile and fixing it is another art but i hope to learn it soon as i see mine getting torn before it breaks into a million pieces and i am left to fix it all alone

the sunset looked way too pigmented—as if the color palette of sorrow had been thrown on it. yes, if sorrow had colors, they would be lilac mixed with pinks and some sneaky whites like the clouds at twilight. i thought it was a masterpiece; a way for nature to share that at the end of the day, each sobbed whisper goes directly to the skies. but before that, it leaves its color on the canvas of earth one last time.

wear your past with grace present with care and future with delight nothing gleams better when three of them are carefully combined

someday something will go terribly, utterly, horribly wrong one day everything will be fine our lives swing between that one day and someday so why do you worry about it everyday

to the person who will want to fall in love with me i have been a sky all my life full of life and light and anger if you’re not coming with thunderstorms; do not come at all

sometimes my words become a pile of broken glass they do not come out without hurting; dripping blood and i forget how to speak

freedom is really expensive and no one will wrap it in a fancy paper to leave at your doorstep. you will have to buy it with the currency of blood, sweat and struggle. it doesn’t twinkle like sparkly things. it is often shaped like bruised knees and mourning skin. but what makes it too precious is the fact that a lot of currencies will never be strong enough to bid for it. this is where it becomes insanely priceless.

This unstitched loneliness keeps bleeding out of my hands. I was always ready to be someone else. To be remembered like a fabricated war history. Reunion with myself remains a personal tragedy. But to be a poet without being tragic would have been quite a shame.

you said you would stay forever but does this forever include all the times when i am an earthquake; tearing apart my own existence—burying down my own cities because i do not want the sound of the word forever in the same air where I keep the sound of the word survival if it was never meant to be there at all

isn’t it absolutely terrifyingly, shockingly amazing how words those tiny little sounds in this chemical-filled air those shapeless weird marks on stark white paper can make or break living breathing people stab them at heart without a single weapon push them off their strong firm feet take away the earth they used to stand on words; they’re powerlessly powerful so use yours well

some houses are haunted. but they aren’t always inhabited by ghosts. sometimes some memories dwell there so starkly, their nameless faceless sorrow starts taking over and the walls keeping that house together start to collapse. i have walked into such houses only to witness a melancholic past, a withering present and a silent future. those houses carry the dead dreams and maybe broken hearts too because god knows where else one could ever find this much sadness that would turn one firm building into an abandoned mess.

Dreams live as long as the dreamers do

you wanted to know about the art i created and the melancholy behind the words but i couldn’t tell you how and why those shades and words found their way on that crisp white graceful paper because sometimes some things do not have a story and artists spill their tears and blood and sweat on a canvas just so we could keep art alive even when we don’t have a story telling you why because if art were to be explained you would know how empty everything is; from creations to the hearts that created.

my heart has become a silent neighborhood where only emptiness and your name dwell nobody goes there; nobody gets out because in a town where the only thing you can breathe are memories nothing lives; nothing dies

my dreams now look like spears that i have to hold upside down clench too tightly and i will bleed hold too lightly and they will fall

there are days when i am a flag of victory standing firm on a familiar ground; my fabric without a single crease

the most beautiful thing in this world isn’t made up of particles. it’s the strength of a person who has seen the collapse of their world, everything they held dear crashing down in a million pieces. yet every morning, they wake up and build their life, all over again. mourning their loss in a tranquil silence. i haven’t yet seen anything more astonishingly beautiful.

you're the moon and the world is a lonely world; it cries at the sight of You for You are glorious and so out of reach

i am growing flowers in the darkest part of my heart for if light ever enters it would know where to start

you are the peace after wars the calm after storms and everything insanely beautiful that shapes after a tragedy

I have been taught how to be left behind frequently and entirely empty-handed." - New Names for Lost Things