Days Of The Year Poem by Naveed Akram

He swore never to die in this happiness,
As the night passed into itself and cheered
With a black eye, and a black face,
Forming twisters and states that had abodes.
He reasoned with the selfless prisoners
Inside the intellectual minds of ire,
So that treason was uprooted
And damnation was the cursed belonging.
He swore never to die in this mud
Of the very sky so dim with rage
Now that the day had crept up and shivered.
The spectacle of the sun tremendously outlived
Us all, like the days of the farming periods
Energized by the laws of the vagabonds.
He swore never to lie or die with curses,
Curses never died afterwards as their hazards
Were full of atoms, fixing the days of the years.