One Game Poem by Naveed Akram

One game is southern breeze,
Once the lamentations have subsided,
When the clock has timed the changes
And the space of a breeze has arisen.
One game is enough to be sport-like,
Sportsmen alter their pathways likewise,
And offerings from the entire crowd
Throw confusion like the icebergs.
One matters too late, in the fumbling
Of the fingers and the growing of plants.
Where are the daughters of this world?
Their own sons forsake each other
In the realms of the magical worlds.
This game feeds on an unity of words,
Opaque, obscure and transparent sometimes.
Let the sports commence as they once
Galloped and strode upon the balconies.