Clashing Swords

The sword clashes in mighty strokes with the stone,
The stone splits from the massive tone of the alone.
These slumbers write a mischief and outburst,
To be booked and looked at, to be accursed.

Then somebody reigns over us with dignity,
Holding gifts so treacherous, of no generosity.
The futility, and shame of our past trials
Shows outbursts so malignant that we are in denials.

A sword has won, victory commands my pride
To swivel and learn greater quests alongside.
The need of danger after jeopardy is superb,
I may discriminate on grounds to disturb.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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