Gift of Knowledge

Desks of understanding can never replace
The books of amazing nature, the real
Relishing designs that cost a lot of knowledge.

Destroy our men from the goodness of learning,
Good is their prize of joy, the force of days
That reveal a prize, and more prizes.

The medals I deem essential are golden,
Like forming wet puddles in the ground,
Over a reason my puddles are heard, the medals.

Knowledge is perfect, is exact in rests and seizures,
But we are old forms, resting bones from all exercises,
From bandages and wounds contrived by the wounded.

Understanding is the present of the heart
To a wounded man of brilliance.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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