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Managed By Miscreants

The terrors of tomorrow collide with monsters
To observe the days of honour,
Those fruitful events of the orders of man.
These events command swimming sailors,
Those few miscreants engaged in idol-worship;
A management was an altar of the highest virtue
And duty. I do not know fortnights and weeks
Of pleasure.

The terra firma formed from the crust
Excels with our spirits of jars and armour.
The whole pottery emerges in the form of thoughts
Thoroughly excellent.
The terror shades the self from the sun or the star
That reigns over shaking earth.
My terrible tense world is afire,
Without the needs of an acting monster.

poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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