The Pakistani Spectator

I remember his verses
In his trails, words of revolution
In his thoughts, words of gold
Now carry we will, in our way
In continuation, to find
What became a dream?
For the poet, for our friend
A blessed soul, of our own
Not borrowed, not stolen
One of our own, the Faraz
We will miss him and words
That breathed revolution
Death can only bring whispers
But [...]