Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
You laugh as if you consume the peacock,
With an eaten grain the words are alive
To the sound of sound, a heart has concentrated
On words to describe, so I lay at the door
Of the house offered to me, and I created the well
So adequately, forming one food and another.
The resemblance made me a rock to bow down
To, but I refused the compliment,
And I deserved according to reason and revelation,
I know the rules of a day so forsaken
By the food of a loved one.
I hear the sounds of the heavens
In this temporal universe.
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