Activities of Ayatullah Nurjati

Diving at a certain depth is apparently more exciting than swimming on the surface with roaring waves. ©Ayatullah Nurjati @poemhunter.com

Upon the moonlit shore, my heart laments,
A whisper lost within the rolling tide.
O love, dost thou still dwell in firmament,
Or fade like dreams where silent sorrows hide?
...

As I stand, a poet in an ocean of words,
Unspoken feelings, unheard verses surge.
What is this craft, this calling to write?
Is it light for others or my own plight?
...

She carries life, a quiet bloom
The earth beneath her feels her grace
Within her heart, the sun finds room
A sacred hymn in time and space
...

The cracked mirror in the corner of the room holds the image of a gloomy face. Small shards that bounce faintly, like memories that are hard to escape.
Every crack holds a story, about a wound that is slowly healing. There are tears trapped there, in silence that swallows all sound. In a mirror that is no longer intact, you reflect your fragile self.

But in every broken piece of you that is opened, there is strength in accepting the wound.
...

In the dark night sky, I sail on the ocean of stars, looking for a ray of light, in a nebula of hope far away.

Cosmic dust dances slowly, whispering promises of the future, amidst the eerie darkness, I found a glimmer of light.
...

The moon whispered to the sea,
'Tell me your deepest secrets.'
And the sea, with its waves dancing,
Revealed tales of lost ships,
...

The cracked mirror in the corner of the room holds the image of a gloomy face. Small shards that bounce faintly, like memories that are hard to escape.
Every crack holds a story, about a wound that is slowly healing. There are tears trapped there, in silence that swallows all sound. In a mirror that is no longer intact, you reflect your fragile self.

But in every broken piece of you that is opened, there is strength in accepting the wound.
...

at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
...

Behind the gentle tinge of dawn.
Pulling back the curtain of the receding night.
Clear light sweeps away the darkness, bringing peace to a sinking heart.
The wind whispers in a slow rhythm, bringing messages from a calm universe.
...