All Dead Poem by Naveed Akram

The life of a leader is a leaf,
The trees are burdens on this living
And dying.
But the pleasure creates a desire
To live fully with jests and dangers,
Flocking within the seconds on
A grazing green, a copse has been cleared
By the elders and chiefs.
Looking into danger sends memories
Of the gold and silver attracted by the gusts.
One wind is too many soldiers
Of an army of ruin and blood,
Concerts of sound resettle and rebound
Due to reason and a binding rationale.
Those with ghosts shall enlighten,
These soldiers are all dead.