They began to hatch a plot,
Galloping creatures succumbed
To our stares as they rained down
Like bullets, picking up all the coins.
Treasure had arrived, forever in our midst,
The noise of the revellers was discarded
By the infinite walls of rescinding ash.
One remainder was a ghost of number
That dissolved scares from systems.
They began to absolve the priesthoods,
Gorgeous men to God,
Who had heaven and earth on His side,
Where devastating angelic men argued
And fought over rewards entailed.
The atmosphere of the rooms
Was a translation of the languages
So inert, solid and entire.
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Comments about this poem (A Plot by Naveed Akram )
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