The Past Is Mere Echo Poem by Naveed Akram

The faint path of the past is a delicate thought,
To my doubts is the knowledge directed with thought,
I have a road where men of old are banished,
I have a past, I have a repugnant past history.

Or was I old? When do proud offerings detest the
Listeners, who beckon the lovers on the mountain top,
Strange syllables are echoed like waves of the sea
Gushing outwards into the ear that loves the tune of life.

I went to the old wise man who was a king of the age,
His faint heart was an older start to the aroma of youth,
When do tongues wonder about the intensity of light
And the sequences so adored by some who love others?