O Favoured One Poem by Naveed Akram

O his favourite son! The one, the one
Who was born by the hands of certainty,
The person who tore with tears the book
Once in the offering to mortal man.
His life is cherished as a book,
Walking among us, with certainty.
My favoured one is bound to tragedy,
Opening the wheels of hope to the road.
My favoured pun is not a punishment,
But it is a revealed knowledge,
Unseemly at first but growing in stature.
My appeal is to humankind,
And it works well to originate a theme
To readdress the populace by heavier
Virtues, that this city is fortuned with,
That this cringing mass are developing.
Why does mortal man interfere
With gods that trouble only a stern heart?

O seeking one! Deserve your railway
Of desire, your favourite son.
This sibling is a dire wise one,
Feeding the masses with a looting hazard
That strays into the mind from afar.
My actual art is a favoured brightness,
Glossy like the teeth of a saviour.