Wounded Heart Poem by Naveed Akram

The wounded heart is a hat of a painful artist,
Its cloud is the rainy storm, great contours,
Grand paintings, gorgeous monuments, of severe
Longing, perceptible talent and avarice.
The love within is the lobe of the lofty ones,
You are forms of ice, palaces of just thought;
You fatten the young to carry the old from them.

Let Fate run its battle with each soul, landscape
Has been scenes of beauty that entails the heart.
You are Divine, like the freedom of a million lives,
Nothing is unto his bold stony heart, his loveliness.

Body, mind, and soul are immortal, duty has to say,
Even when happiness strikes its talons,
When birds and beasts shrink ever thinner, thicker,
Like the animals of the west and east.

It is the wounded, clotted heart fighting our strength,
Stars worry over this fact, nature obliterates the young,
But the young are the most wounded when nature enters,
Like the movies of an actual man and woman in love.