My Thinkers - Poem by Naveed Akram
Ten times my thinking men reply,
To read is too fine an art of living,
To be nonsense creates my kite
That I fly and manipulate for myself.
Offer your followers some advice
That God has provided from abacuses
Stored in the clouds above our heads.
We see our words as numbers
Sparkling like silver plates.
My thinkers hear the reality,
Knowing their learned souls from souls.
In this sense, parts of your life
Are weak, for philosophy is too grave
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