With Acts Are Deeds Poem by Naveed Akram

Your acts are like rains of the haunted places,
They swing to the music of the graves and pits.
A picture of an act is like the opening of doors,
A wonderful fountain depicts the misery of hurt.
My acts are my acts, and your acts are good acts,
Forever the arts are the actual actions so written.

Hit me with the speech of a leader of sacred heart,
The beaming of the heart is heard by an author.
He writes and writes ritualistically, so finely and readily
That rainbows assert their meaning, and beauty
Enters the copse of our desires, the unconscious world
Of worlds, a real partner and realer friend.

Your acts compare to the hearing of a way so white and
Weary of the harnessing of powers that subjugate.
Hit me with the deeds so defined by later writers,
Their words are like flowers in the wind and rain, tall
Words that instigate terrors and pleasures; my own
Wisdom is being in this world with a trajectory.