Aligned
with stars, depressions on red sands,
Or
steps in succession built in second hand;
A
door that honoured Sun, on mountain peaks’,
Mummified ‘cells’ protected flesh, being buried.
Who
made calendars on the stones to remain,
As
a gift or warning or how one fell or gained;
Inscriptions
on walls for millennia still breathe,
To
be chanted by all as awaiting to be decreed.
And
crossed the horizon, in space or beneath,
Alike
flowing rivers looked from beyond; the seas;
Chariots
of Unknown in skies, came to greet?
The
edicts, the codes, erased with mutated seeds.
When
eyes in opaque glasses each other perceive,
Who
dig the mortals across sphere in deep;
Brushes
in the caves that deciphered truth or lies,
Awaiting
in the déjà vu, the circular time! 😊
© Pranav Chaturvedi