Aflame
The world aflame, we astound it,
On the way this language becomes;
Lips of cold energy are revolting,
Revolving and empty with sin.
You lie by me and kill my belongings,
On this side of the river there runs a spirit
Or ghoul of astounding and abhorrent strength.
The lips are struck by its glare
And my funeral has abolished me.
I run the world now that the fire is out,
Languages and folly are over.
Place him in the middle of the river,
Rivers are running deep today and every day.
poem by Naveed Akram
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