To Marvel
To marvel at the miracle is haste,
Much slaughter happens when one is weak,
This creature vanishes when it is chased,
A frenzy instant crazes us - bespeak!
The nature of our lives must hasten form,
The forms abound in riches each do weep,
Has treasure found a word indulged by norm?
Open the doors by force and be asleep.
Because of your creation of hitting,
One felt over the hills a sense of wish,
Internal whims practise abolishing,
Hills make us full of hate, to astonish.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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