Bheed mein reh k bhi khud ko to main tanha paoon
Kon hai mera siwa tere main kahan jaoon ?
apne hathon se nasheman ko jla loon kaise
main tujhe is dil se is dil se nikaloon kaise?
ashk palkon mein chupa loon kaise?
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
