Then Fly Away
They fly away on thinking doubts,
With celebrations that relish the relics
They have worshipped, that their sound can concoct.
Days come by the edge of a river,
As if startled were the animals when too late
To run from the moon’s spirit
That awakens by night, always by night.
It is now silence. The water mutters all the pulses of washing,
coming from the water’s gauge,
He lives with the instruments and the gauge
To live with him, and doubts do shape his skull
When the water is not dirty and when dirty he admits
What the river wanted.
The flies are around.
The river is never around.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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