Mere Mortals
A mortal thought carries a flute,
Singing this breathing will give birth.
Over hills and into tunnels, a small touch
Brings the body to a nearness with death.
Again and again, my significant breath
Grows deeply enough to revive my soul.
Near death is a light of speech so powerful,
Hands and feet struggle with me, so violently.
The light of the stars, when the nights passed,
Lost me, spoilt me with my heart as I lived.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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