The Binding Poem by Naveed Akram

A binding with faith is a madness of the wood,
Those afflicting the prose are against the dread;
Much of a mutated being prolongs its stay here,
But the binding of the people who live in the wood
Is speaking to the disease and illness of some rude stone.
The magic that is binding has alleviated the suffering,
Those in pain are walking and laughing to feed
The trillions who swear to their faith and say a sight
For the truly blessed, it is kind of the wood to burst
With such heat that the night's day has turned sour.
My morning is a primeval place, one surrenders
To the sunrise every time one has included the redress.