A Rambler in the Ruins

O' rambler! come ye

Come,O' rambler!
Feel the engraving
On this tombstone.
Here's is an epitaph
A song sung,
A story told.
Read, grope,
Feel and hear.

But, O' rambler!
Cleave and clench not
The hushes of the
Unseen and unsung.
Scattered in the remains
Are there buried,
Awaiting for long
To be sung.

Sing, O' rambler!
But do not stifle
The calm and serenity
With clamor and clash
Lest the dead
should awake
From the slumber
And bury you there.

Fear, O' rambler!
Do not spoil
The idle beauty
With your claws
And tear not
The remains
Left only of
The decaying past.

Come, O' rambler!
Sit on its balustrade
A gnome,
With freckled skin
From the sleepy vaults
Of the concave
Would whisper away
A freaky tale.

Wait, O' rambler!
Clog not your ears.
An elf would dive out
Of the green, murky pond
Sit on its cemented slope.
It would murmur away
A forgotten lore
Of the tides of time.

Hear, O' rambler!
The drooping leaves
Sighing in the breeze
On the doom
Of the debris
Camouflaged
With red and green
Satin wraps.

Weep, O' rambler
Weep with the
Dewy drops
Gleaming on the
Bushy hedges and
The grassy lawn
On the fading sheen
Of the fleeting time.


O' rambler, come ye!
Lone ye come
To listen to
The unspoken ones
To feel
The impaired ones.
To heal
The forsaken ones.

( On the Dargah-e-Maner Sharif)