A Gathering Poem by Naveed Akram

I loath all that does not exist like His Gathering,
Killing this ideal has been rejected by those nearby.
They are my neighbours, they are my pride,
But what does it mean to the denizens of mighty homes.
I see his home, and the clothing of His Soul,
What does he do in the trials of His Life?
May I wish him good luck, good time,
So that presents are collected forever.
Come to the place of joy, the worthy position,
It worked then and there to be in the same position.
Must we keep the souls apart, or together? we do not know.
I have to postpone the meeting with my boss.
It is a compelling story I have to tell,
Of the yellow river, the river of love,
A tributary or headwater that builds fever,
One that is like love of him and only of him.