Raising Coins Poem by Naveed Akram

In the dawn of the time we called earth's finality,
A last hour was experienced by the rich of the heart.
Keeping watch of soon stirring heads, a son was lifted
From the grave we call the hurt, the burst of existence.
In the dawn of time we call another soul the master,
It is the baby of the intelligence, the soul of mighty manner.

We are inspired by those who delve into arts of mastering,
In this time of the day, there are many yellow roads and white
Hearts leading to red blood, and red blood leading to vacuum.
The time is different as the helpful one is absent, like the clown
Sulking, snoring and stirring angers of the flesh and soul,
That lurks and loiters like a liar of the fortress that changes.

A hurt accomplishes all in the space of the time we call time,
The pain is falser than the pleasure, as purses are filled with
Coins of golden burden, as soon as coins flirt and raise the height.