Dwelling Snail Poem by Sarmad ALI

Life is still, snail dwelling hereby
waiting for the heavens grace
Wanna go far, Be admired be praised

These dreamless, these dead souls
These passive faces, fagged out bodies
Submerged in mythical allurements

Sleep they awake, no difference made
Tramps are they, agony they complain
Opaque to thoughts, they should cultivate.

Inspiration they need to materialize they feel
Drifty not but resoloute, they need to be
To win the war to win the cold war.....