My Lesson Poem by Naveed Akram

My lesson is the authority of my soul,
In remembering my thoughts I envisage them.
To see their fatalities, to observe the relativities,
And to barter the kindness is a worthy dispute.

My lesson is far-fetched and eccentric like the moon,
It quivers in its light, shivers at first sight and looms.
Many praises induce the mighty heroes to fall asleep,
Like the fallen paintings of a world war or battle of tension.

My lesson permits no soul to partake in ugly acts of trial,
In denial of God, the accuser is the accuser, and the relentless.
Many thoughts of wisdom are stuck on a painting of monstrous
Ratios and numbers of silk, like the embalmed souls of warriors.

My lesson exerts a pleasant thrift of blindness and despair,
For a man to bewail over his worldly lot, to ask for ascension.
Many birds of clay have formed from the horizon of god-like age,
So do not embitter the gnostics who bind to atoms and cotton of white.