ON THE SILK ROUTE
I set my sights upon the hills of Eurasia,
The mighty mountains amidst the clouds.
I see man strolling with their mules,
With spices and cloth and things sublime.
The paths treacherous and unwinding I find,
Set across the halls of Chang’an-Tianshan.
I see footprints of great explorers,
Sifting across the sands of time.
Many a traveller do set foot,
Upon a journey so magnificently unruly.
The weather a foe, the beats run wild,
For the sake of pots of gold, footsteps they do hold.
I see mules hounded by burden,
Of cloaks of satin and fur-lined boots.
I see travellers from the world over,
Selling goods the ether world never saw before.
Many an explorer have trudge along this path,
Memoirs a million told of its travails.
The howling winds betwixt the dunes that passed,
Of creatures that maimed and hunted on these roads.
My horses are weak, legs sore and rickety,
They waddle about in a daze as saddles doth droop away.
I must await for my mouth is parched in the sun,
Overcome am I, uncertain mirages abound.
I seek for water thus,
In a land so barren of life.
In moments sublime I seek for a soul,
Forbear I must, as I lose all hope.
I plunge to the hard ground,
The rocks hot and steamy like the gates of Hell.
I dream of the courts of the Kublai,
Of riches and gold upon the horizon set.
I see statues made of gold,
Streets so magnificently laden with emerald stones.
I see palaces as majestic as the Temple of Solomon,
I see ungodly feats of men, made of just sticks and stones.
Unfathomable glory I do see,
My eyes shed tears I awe of the glory.
As the sun sets, I sit in repose,
Thinking of a world I’d never set foot upon.
In words of immortal ink I thus pen,
Upon this papyrus sheet.
Of times I thus besought and searched,
Of a world beyond any mortal reach.
A world that lay untold and unexplored,
A world of my imagination, a figment of an idyllic dream.
My flask lay bear and I am defeated,
On these blessed paths in sands of gold.
Of many a stories to come, I stop,
I lay hear looking at the stars,
I dream of many fables lay untold.
Farewell sweet souls that wander thus,
I lay upon these grounds tattered, like soldiers mauled by Mongolian lords.
The horses have fled to the far side of the mountains,
In my demise, I dream of the palaces of the Khan.