Wind Of The Last Day Poem by Naveed Akram

The winds of a day are blowing
When trumpets will be blown
Like golden instruments of decay,
And light has the glint one passes.
A shaking star will vomit and shudder
Into nothingness, like a burning wound
Capturing time, with manifold butcherings.
The crowds will disperse and fires will be lit,
Offering the philosophy of an object
That rests on easy ground, feeling and feeding
Existence in its own right.
The winds offer us a sacred joy of weather
Residing in creation, from the calamities outstretched.
A day will come when it will be the last,
Offering the food for the last time,
Drink and famine will be present
But not to drink, waters will be massive
As the wines are showering us all.