The Cradle of Dust

Stone Mural at Chitradurga
“As all stone must once turn to dust . . .”

The light of the bygone eras
Shining from surfaces long dead
Unrelenting fingers of life
Swarming away, groping
At the transient abode we have
Built for our foolish selves.
– To take them away- all for nought-
What do we deserve, but the rot?
The broken moss-covered stones?

As wights and wraiths do we patrol our dead lands
In eternal frustration..
Nothing stays- nothing’s to stay
As we subside-  as we drown
In the silent darkness
Of time’s muffled passage.

The land rolls away on every side.
Fog swirls at the crumbling foundations
Of what was once a cradle of an empire.
Sightless windows, ghosts of doors
Ceilings of sky and glittering stars..
Was such the fate of men,
Long striving to live? To let live?

“They escaped the weight of Darkness
To drown in another..”

Nature- the cruelest mother
Took back from her sons
What she had lent out to them..

..Playtime was over.

A little something I had written a long time back, out of sheer frustration mingled with sadness upon witnessing the decadence and death of an empire of what had been Vijayanagar-




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