Lovely Grip Of Hours Poem by Naveed Akram

Who does she devote her lovely hours?
The lights are dimmer than the sunny day,
A darkness enfolds the masses with cold.
We discern the matters of taste so bland,
But are conquered again by those with hate.
The levitation is sealed, we must lift ourselves
To the higher forces of life, winning prizes,
Losing thorns, giving charity with games of fun,
And loosening the grip of those who grow old.

Those dark-blue skies are blundered and callow,
The shape of the clouds are all blunt and enamoured
Of strife that beckons the water of the wastes.
We see blindness with blind hearts,
But the darkness enfolds the merciful men.