My Soundness Poem by Naveed Akram

Full of sounds my stoicism shone too brightly,
Liking the ends of the promises that were hidden,
For my quiet healing is a prisoner of my youth,
A slightly blameworthy trait or attribute or name.
The illness of a straight idea is before all else,
Let them stop and there is a body of devilish ideas.
My knapsack accompanies me through the terrain
Falsely collected by my travelling feet of this day.
Must we develop a sense of sneaky behaviour?
Might we fully preach and fully understand our speech?
Then be full of soundness and special arguments
That enlighten those with a heart of logic.