Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)

Sound waves asserted their breath as one part of the air,
Wedding the noise to the din of the room and chamber.
Music countered merriment up to a degree,
Jolly waves of joy mastering the airways.
My degree of insolence hugely existed and warped
The planes of my existence, with heralding gestures,
Soldiers of art, the best of the best.
Sounds melted in a pot to persuade the majority of thinkers
That sound was to be played in ever-changing manners.