Most Painful Poem by Naveed Akram

You are mostly in tribulation since the pains of Hell on Earth,
These are your market, these are your nunneries and monasteries.
So pray to some cause, avoid being animal and cannibal, colour the eyes,
Cover the eyes, as force encompasses the ghosts of our majesty.
I opened the door to my old heart, our weapons began to rust,
Earlier than the days of conflict that enticed men and knights of chivalry.

It is my history, it is my past, the rule of the saints, the rule of the kings,
As faster scripts force us bitterly to resent the priests of a mighty sword.
Their words disregard the energies of a nothingness to stain the system,
It is my word that dissolves in the solvent of foreknowledge, it is my pain
That stays like a soldier of crime, inner fellowship with mighty saints has
Blinded the eyes with spiritual favours, as if seeing is the best option of praise.

I saw God the next visit, all-living, all-powerful, like the flames of divine pleasure,
Speaking to my soul in the heart that blackens the dead forest, like a die or note.
I opened the faster spirit, I started the chapter of a century that dismayed again,
But where is my festival of lights and felicity, from a height that fought itself?
It is my past this time of the night, in this signal of the right, like the foreseeing
And foretelling of saints and prophets, of wiser men and wisest kings.