Pilgrimage

The ancient one sits
 in the gloom 
winding road to the peak 
lined by twinklings 
unfolding the path 

Never ending gloom 
Never ending steps 

The gentle scent of Arabic perfume , of spices
hang on the leaves near Nalla Thanni
The clink of roman coins in small purses
pride of an empire
follow you each step of the climb
Echoes of   “Saadhu” chants
  from ago 
surround you 
haunting you
with the secreted
sighs of peasants, 
cries of mothers , 
the wisdom of old men, 
tales of kings
who passed by through 
the valley of time

Never ending chants
Never ending steps

In the waft floats 
whispers of an ocean far away 
said to the sands awaiting the waves 
The breeze smells of butterflies 
Sweet smell from their breath 
lightness from their wings 
from their journey to the peak 
to perish at sunset 

Yet 
no butterflies in sight 
for  they do not travel in the night 
It is the pilgrims 
who climb swathed in moon shade
It always has been
to reach the small shrine
atop
to  catch the first rays 
of the day

Nothing more

Never ending pilgrims
Never ending steps