Monday, June 16, 2008

Living Stone (The Gateway)

There on the ragged ocean's edge,
stands an edifice, tall and old.
Overlooking the silver in the night,
by dusk, admiring the gold.
She is the manefestation of a dream,
a lore made immortal in stone.
The crown of a long forgotten king,
the gold of a dusty forlon throne.
From her shoulders, the cloak of Time,
falls in many a satiny fold.
Perched on Her wizened high forehead
are stone flowers, eternal. Cold.
Millions of waves have cleansed Her feet,
But age hardly crumples Her countenance.
Yet those with a keen probing eye
will see the age of a thousand suns.
For years today, She has patiently stood,
and watched as the city has grown.
Like a Mother at Her child's pyre,
Like History trapped in a living stone...
~Maithili Desai

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