These corridors of power
Have sunk into the ground.
There’s not a sound.
The steps to the throne
Have seesawed and felled
They descend to Hell
A haven for bats and rats.
Even the great city of Delhi is quiet
At a distance.
Nothing matters where once swords
These building blocks of stone
Petra, were power rocks to build
Now fallen sire so epileptically
So silently perhaps in the dusk
Gnashing teeth of time chew rubble to dust
So belligerently, brashly grows the grass.
The seconds tick away slowly with such disdain
For Kings and reigns, alas
The ruins frown now at
This ghost town.