The Story

I see this monument,
Looks like an old palace,
Standing amidst the mountains,
Singing the dirge of its abandonment.

It saw many generations,
Kings and queens reigned in it,
Common men envied the skill of its creator,
Once that stood with regal dignity,
Is now a heap of stones,
Left behind by an anonymous ruler.

It regaled the historians with its tales,
Sure it found its place in books,
Won the hearts of people,
For whom it is a part of history and
Who never cared how it looked.

It withstood the forces of nature,
All these years, but now is battered and weak,
Once that stood too bold to be shaken,
Will soon fall and break into pieces,
taking with it the ‘buried lives’.

A new monument will take its place,
Beaming with pride and ‘immortality’,
Starting a new fold of generations,
Weaving slowly its own story…