The Hidden Moon Poem by Naveed Akram

The moon wastes its strength when hidden,
In an empty heart the tides are changing,
Due to the minute moon so longing and yearning.
The beat of the waves keeps on keeping the caves
Of splendour, for sighing is a signal of sitting.

Then sit, with keys of the night, heart of the right,
My part is frowned upon by the bees and seas;
The role of acting this and that is ridiculous,
My saviour is ill due to the splendid auction,
Often it cries out to the world of water and heat.

I have a moon to treasure, when my solution is found,
I found the milk, and I bring it along, heart of heart
Lies inside the bed, so out I stand to sit again;
My role of red heat is land, the opposite of earth and sea,
For I speak for those in remembrance and pity.