THE NECROPOLIS

History sleeps underneath
The tombs with hieroglyphs on it
The powerful men of the ancient
Rest here, waiting to wake up – for journey to nether world

Tombs with pyramids above
And architectured chambers below
Laden with peerless hoards
Of gold, pearls, stones and Godly things – all intact, ever bound

Herein lay the kings who slayed a lot
Who wiped out civilizations asunder
Who drove communities to flee
To yonder places, never to return – concluding the exodus

In the chambers below the tombstone
The linen wrapped scented bodies
Of kings, queens and noble men
Looking for the spirit to get back - to be born again, in earth or heaven

To live again with those Gods to guide
With nectar, spouses and concubines
Thousands of women, boys and eunuchs
For pleasures of love making and orgies - isn't it all life about?

Having lived to ripe ages
Having ruled, built and destroyed
Having killed and wounded in return
Having seduced, conquered - and consummated

Yet keeping hopes of eternal life
Beyond death, rebirth and death again
Built up sacred cities of death
Like the city of spleandored living - with coffers full of loot and all

History sleeps, waiting to wake up
To be present, yet keeping the past
Exposing the contrast of time
Between the day past, today - and the morrows to come.

(In the second half of Septemeber 2008, I had an opportunity to visit Egypt. The above poem is an aftermath of the visit)