To Grow Inside

To grow old I must wait and sparkle
Inside the doom of this planet;
I must feel stronger than my brothers,
Harder than the realities of the heat.
We must all bloom like the flowers
In the morning so shuddering and clear.
We are the oldest men and women of this era,
A century buys and sells the souls of areas
That resign, submit and release their burdens.
One must be young and sweet to benefit
From old age that matters and masters.
Softened by the races of the spiritual kind
We matter too much for our kindred,
Seeking the nerves for the process of adjustment.

by Naveed Akram

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