Algebra Poem by Naveed Khalid

What more scope needest I this world
of hideous looks,
that bewailing night asleep;
that in whose presence e'ery loving grace
of full glorious days our common affairs,
be loved by beauty more in nurslings of immortality
than what the stars in secret influence comment;
of eclipsed doom to bloody tyrant time
some dry leaves of book in autumn
beside the bed of oak to e'er melting snow;
ere I write thee with love of hundred years from hence,
while I stood at the door of heaven's high bower,
beguiled by the sweat of thy brow,
no dark can e'er illumine in the late evening,
against bright-lit mirror of thy most high deserts,
the sun of my shipwrecked dreams upon the sand dunes.

Date: Friday, November 27,2015 12: 23: 21 PM