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To Allow Me
To allow me the rests complains to my spirit,
This spirit that rests inside my heart shall never cease,
This spirit is a ghost of the sums of gold and silver,
Forming me aright, from the icons that are displayed.
A real reason rests with the righteousness of relics,
My angers are asked by the rest of the angry crowd,
Turbulent times call for the truer punishments
In the heart of mine that bleeds.
Do not be mean to my spirit that sentences a man
To deathly encounters, fixed in their realms
As the eyes have calling of tears, rests are afoot,
And about them the wrestling is about.
To allow me a solution to these problems
Causes me to found a society where I
Judge the right punishments and sports
For the hearty men and women who live.
Those who love and inhabit their daily habits
Shall mime with the heavenly maidens
As their eyes fetch a golden coin.
poem
by
Naveed Akram
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