*breeding Ground Poem by Abdul Wahab

Like thousands of people
this night
I am with pen and paper
in the field of ideas,
the ink of my ‘will'
is fighting to leave
a mark on the map
of your mind,
a thousand miles,
untroden
of past and future,
a stubborn boy of nineteen
trying to impress a sweet sixteen,
a cock fight never to end,
the new dares to replace the old,
a track is not enough to run the train
coal is required as a fuel
to run it smoothly till the end,
mines are dark I search with a torch,
win or loss,
I have no difference,
leads me there where
the meaning of this fight
is nothing but just a breeding ground
of new ideas
and where I die
every moment
as a
true soldier
defending the truth emerald.