Disturb him not, the dangerous,
Ask him, not me, forcing,
Frustrating him with abjectness,
By lying, disputing.
However much you sound like hurt,
The risks are greater then,
Those witches’ faces can be dirt,
The dangers are again.
My father tests us day and night,
To see the wizards play,
Like risks and fences offered light,
Much needs a face to pay.
Can ours be time to concentrate
And keep us in this shape,
Can’t we just quickly activate
The brain of that landscape.
Naveed Akram's Other Poems
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