A Place from the Past


Just one step away from an ancient past;
Three thousand years of fleeting life
Wearing a shroud of fertile silt.

Scholars flocking around the scene
Unearthing heritage
Brush-stroke by brush-stroke like painters,

Repainting a lost world
Once full of emotions
As vividly alive as now.

A mere step; a border of thousand years!
So close and yet so far!
The past whispers, “The glories never last…”

The worn out bricks, sun-burned,
Peep from deep slumber, in the burning sun.
Their broken edges belying time gone by.

We stood still, in awe – pondering,
What these four slants stood for;
Puzzling scholars and fools alike!

A royal vase sporting flower plants;
Or some sweet smelling herbs, or a dungeon
Dark and stale, stowing life to die!

Crossing then the invisible wall of time;
Three thousand years traversed
In a lightning thrust on some unseen wings.

We then woke up three thousand years ago
And felt like kings and queens,
Reigning over the subjects and states.

The battle cries of heroes, the silent tears
Of trophies less cunning and shrewd
And heroic rephrasing of history –

Staining our human birth
While we kept standing tall
And too high to be soiled by shame.

But when we turned around and moved away
Things that lay hidden for three thousand years
Were lost before the day.

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