Sand In Hand Poem by Naveed Akram

If sand is in my hand,
And cages contain our rages,
We become power of rivers and seas,
Clashing with their built-in waves.

The gate is a real state
Where we have wings
And where he sings,
Forming a flight of the reality.

The hour is late, and my flower
Burgeons with crazy petals,
Each alive to sounds and hearts
Lingering in the heaven.

My haven is to be taken,
Like the heavenly swords
And the outrageous burden
So fixed in our young tools.

If sand is in my hand,
Then the sworn enemy retracts,
Descending on the nucleus
Of active regions.