In that dreadful space on earth <br />There was no mirror to wash <br />Face from dust with palm of water <br />The fishes had drunk all before perishing <br />Language has died with the leaves <br />Trees had abandoned their roots <br />For want of sustenance <br />There had been no fire but every corner <br />Appeared to have been blazed <br />Beneath the big walls of houses in mud <br />Steps bring night as sharp <br />As shadows from the sun of the day <br />The trees disappear in the night <br />In the old crevices with bats <br />Live demons <br />To capture souls in nightmares <br />Or dreams of some other lands <br />Or every night is wet in suppression <br />Forced to subconscious <br />The village herdsman is the story teller <br />Of the age of stones <br />Beauty is still woven in silk <br />Valor is shooting on spur <br />Sighs are lost in the air <br />For a dropp of water earth is dug deep <br />30/5/2009<br /><br />Sadiqullah Khan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tribal-ways-of-the-age-of-stones/
