My Soul Weeps
I will weep and weep for you,
The world encaged you forcing you
Like the love of things
And the forgetting of death.
When you are dead, the art of living
Shall gain freedom, awaiting the return
Of the angels, the beauty perhaps
Or the pain of the Lord’s grasp.
There be knowledge, too, to know their folly
And strength, the single picture
So illuminated, late or soon,
But where is the last drop?
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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