The Turn Poem by Naveed Akram

The turn is your turn in this sleep,
It deceives your pleasure when
The goings of dreams are tougher
Than a look into the reposed beings.
They observe the experiments of people,
Seeing what is in the way of sight,
Like the person who holds a light.
The lantern of the lights is a lively
Commodity to sell a perceptive being
Who is a man of the unique arts.

This turning into trumpeters,
This bell chiming,
Is a last act of the ultimate variety.
Already they went to a little house
So fashioned by regarding servants.
The turn was their turn to die and live
At this same level, at this pure design.
My family phantoms, my brothers elders,
I am a worshipper of the true bison,
And the true poets, who enter the field
That believes in life itself.