Inside The Circle Poem by Naveed Akram

Inside the circle of morbidity lies a call,
With it the unwinding occurs to master us;
Then gods of the city shall be of towns
As they too become a conscience,
As they too speak for themselves.

Inside me is a watch of the ordinary color,
Asking me questions of the time
Inside my head that talks of talismans
And amulets that detour and detach.

My islands are numerous and exact,
Opening the doors to the realities,
As they too are gates that crawl and are tall,
Fitting the houses in which they are built.

Offer the helpers some help with the past,
Only history can question you on the other-worldly.
May pessimism mind us and optimists crawl over,
To detach from the ones with shouts and alarm.