Ornamental Art Poem by Naveed Akram

A brood of ornaments relax on the table of dreams,
Its lustre is the potion we imbibe and engross when in a state
Of belief that is known to man.
This instrument my father stole,
I found in my prime of youth,
And when man was I, the labours dissolved,
As the music made an empire of focussed art,
A form too related to beauty.
My potions and notions deserve attention,
For my beliefs demand respect
As I believe I am righteous and pious
Like that representation betaken at school
And not my table.