the new age

In my heart an air fills
blowing over a sea on flames,
the stench of charred flesh
mingles with the chartered smiles
of a god in blindfold.
Even the soot in a marble archway
reflect the grimace of a new age
which is both a beginning
and an end.
The air carries to me
the songs of a fog horn,
of complex mrudangam of bharatanatyam
in a conference hall,
and crackling of fire outside the doors.
I know while the Taj burns
and shadows chase shadows in corridors,
The giant only takes a nap.
It can not sleep through
the heat and the crumbling walls;
the Pegasus is here
waiting for the giant
to take his charmed sword,
jump on its back,
and rewrite the new age.

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