Small War Poem by Naveed Akram

There are small portions of this shadowy dark world
Where males rise from the breasts of dark and desolate hills,
Their soldiery is difficult to dig by their dreary nameless state
For a cloud of incense surrounds those who tread on with journey.
The writing of a book progresses and sustains the growth of Nature
Within the sparkling cups of dire knowledge, the wisdom of those who start.
It is the death that we return to, not life, for death is a destination
And life is a throne already occupied for a limited time.
I am yours, and you are mine, inner solid help has found commune
Forming us from within, sustaining the roles of yellow fever called War.