Though the sun had begun bleeding in the West
With an explorer’s gait, I walked jumping over gutters
My track, flanked with knee high grass and nettles
Also wild bushes of all kinds that grew in clusters
I saw dragon flies whirring around in circles
Their wings catching glints of the evening light
As they buzzed from one blade of grass to the other
Giving a solitary soul benign company and sure delight
Strange enough, my track ended in an open space
Enclosed by cracked walls, now a forlorn territory
There are raised mounds, overgrown with weeds
I can easily make out, it is an ancient cemetery
Hush… hush is the place, here no bird sings
There is a mournful silence that deepens
Through the **** grown path, no traveler walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
Vacancy alone greets my pensive eyes
Here the wind sighs in silent pain
There is a muffled horror all around the place
Even the leaves chant a sad refrain
In these ancient graves sleep the silent dead
Their toil and trouble ended with life
They must have been perhaps heroes of the land
No more are they part of world’s victory or strife
Nor its sad commemorations or triumphant jubilees
Though released from the shackles of oppression
Each dear presence has now become an absence
Here they lie anonymous, without a single possession
Some graves are marked by crosses and head stones
But most of them are nameless, worn out by time
We do not know how or when came their end
Did they die in old age or die in their prime
Or perish in a battle or struck by some pestilence
However their names are blotted out from life’s tome
They have become inseparably one with the elements
And they lie here motionless exuding a strange calm
Generations pass and their progeny comes
Unmindful of who lived before them
Neither thankful of the legacy left behind
Nor thinking, all the comforts, from their toil stem
I stand with a heavy heart by these moss grown wrecks
Thinking I too shall lie here once, devoid of all opulence
Leaving all my hard earned possessions behind
Without a name, thoroughly forgotten by the populace
Oh Death! You are the mighty leveler of lives
With your indiscriminate hands when you strike
All differences are ironed out, all distinctions erased
Devoid of any rank, here sleep the king and the slave alike