SONNET 174
By JH Sayyar
All fools run after wealth, forget this,
You receive written, efforts are in vain,
As among a hundred one receives a kiss,
And left over curses the luck getting pain
Nature puts potential in the guise of writ,
Into mind O Fair the foolish calls it fate,
They are the receivers, deceive the wit,
It is the fate writes their doings’ date!
Energy makes trends, runs in our blood,
You can’t increase nor decrease as will,
As gold ingredients are born in the mud,
Who’s seen on earth gold process still?
You find the bread, written in your writ,
You can’t increase it on the ground of wit.
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