The Place Is Consecrated

This place is consecrated, I am flustered
By you, who works wonders on my essence;
A fluorescent lamp manages tightly to be answered,
By the rooms of graveness, ones with affluence.

The flung lamp recognises us with intelligence,
We are sapient as an appearance of solidity;
Intellectual work or my line of business is an annoyance,
Licking the time, I swallow this alkalinity.

This place is consecrated due to us being pious,
Safety is a flyer of heaven, full of heaven;
The rooms of danger are not too featureless,
Fearful work has happened with a curtain.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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