Being Poor Poem by Naveed Akram

Being poor will decease, bringing the light
Of the heavens to your grace, so great.
Inside the heart is the soul and its legions,
What does the heart speak when committed?
This heart is trained to inflate the eyes of sight,
To obscure the vision when in fright or darkness.
My being poor is a natural calamity that the heart
Miserably partakes, for parting with luxury is sincere.

My heart is poor, my poor heart speaks to the pen
To inscribe the letters of unity and trust.

Will my pen prescribe the medicine of the soul
And the self, committing the heart to words of light?
I am not richer than the words of enlightenment,
But these are divine words of the tongue that instills.