Pinball

My own expectations threw the ball,
How concerted the effort became after the ball.
The contrary feelings bespoke and beamed on the lungs
That breathed and forsook the steady fluctuations of the ball.

A rolling ball receives the souls of learning
And the circle of knowledge arrives on time.
My machine is exact, bearing fruit of the life,
This is hereabouts, there is a circle of light so round.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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