Up in the Skies

Up in the skies, there are matters of strange habit,
Just we succumb to labours, these are accurate.
The fate of a man skills in armour and pain,
Open history of someone when to abstain.

Upstairs in the clouds their songs are like fog,
The skies solidly think like Socrates and his dialogue.
Inside a layer of ice stays mission, consideration,
The height mistakes the heavenly splendour, all mistaken.

Let matters of habit still be strange, on the up and down,
Concerning us as we feud and always in town.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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