On
the hill top canopy ,
breathing amidst solitary rocks and dolmens,
Amongst
sleeping millions souls of citadel,
Sleeping the history of a lively crowd
lived eons ago.
It
speaks myriad of stories,
some
our conscious mind could catch
and
some still obscure to the senses.
Here
lived people of different kinds,
Lived their dreams of love,
Spells
of grief and joy,
Carved
their life in lifeless rocks
To
live a life of eternity.
A
few left their journey with a silent note;
Mystic stories of faith &rituals of bygone
era,
stifling
in the labyrinth of time awaiting salvation.
Dried
stains of bloodshed, fights of survivals
struggles
for existence ,
Guide
you to the vantage point
of
an archaic cemetery vanished in the hands of time.
Time
stands still here ,in the temple of sun
In
the forgotten empire of Incas.
In
the whiz of gentle breeze
with
the drizzle of rains,
and
mizzle of mist
hear
the voice of souls,
vanished centuries ago
whispering
something to the Time
in
the silent foggy forest
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