A Chariot Poem by Naveed Akram

One chariot drives north and another south
With hands of the driving forces, winds of the
Servants, worst of the demons and devils.
It is the murder in their history,
The larceny of feelings and emotions,
And not the appearance of the face
That shows a trait of poor souls.

One chariot dies and another lives
According to the seriousness of the times,
It is not the year or the month
That causes their impatience,
But the soldier absent of them.

A chariot is an obstacle for the soul,
A transport for the travellers, and a blessed
Invention for the wary travellers,
Who link and love, laugh and hate,
Like the spread of wings on the earth.