O Slave Of God Poem by Naveed Akram

O slave and saviour of the hidden depths,
Neither is my wealth a nation, nor a declaration,
But simply its style justifies a fellow's existence,
As much as the flowers grown from within.
My ceremonies enact the mysteries of life and laugh,
They instil peace and praise, much like the soldier of dreams.

O slave of this reservoir called Earth, I see many tricks
Undertaken by the losers, forgetting all worth of this moment.
My world is forgiven due to the assertions, the implications,
And the consequences, all surrounding us in their fixtures.
So stride along the hall of your choice, growing buds and tales
Of great energies displaced from the heart to the heart.