Soul that Learns

Kill me once and twice,
Internal worries resist
As the killing of me would entice
The killing of you afterwards.
But bodies are souls
And minds are like matter
From the inner voice.
Dying is tragic as godliness is skilful,
My auctions are about with worry,
Indolent actions result from no pain,
So then worry and solve the puzzle
Of eternity, and spare me.
For sparing me causes me to
Be martyrs and saints,
Like the old regulatory laws
Fuelling the old self,
The soul of mystical learning.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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