My Hand And Soul Poem by Naveed Akram

My soul is in the hands of the one who made a star
And a sky and a land of dreams and colours, the one
Who has no need for his creation, nor a regard for the
Transgressors, for He is just and certain, we will return.

My soul arrives in a minute, a minute, and a minute is long,
Forces frolic, games guard the guests, gardens grow.
My answer is in roles of a prize, a stamp of the winter,
For the forces of light and energy come from solar wind.

My handsome friends guard their questions from a student,
Who is the yesterday? What friend is their being?
Inside the garden of blooming flowers we see a tool
Of bricks and mortar, a children's year, and a fencing degree.