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Closed Doors
Old cultures and lost traditions.
All rose from the sowing of the same seeds,
Unity, religion and belief,
Behind those red brick walls,
Hides a story far stronger than any before,
Of epic battles and royalties,
Of castles that we talk of today,
We really barely know,
The story behind the luxury of those days,
The story behind lives of gold,
To get a crown of the greatest jewels,
They have sacrificed their lives,
Today we realize we have forgotten,
The words of those wise,
They sang their own different melodies,
Celebrated with a different folk,
Today we have forgotten in our history,
The past that they hold,
Today our memories of them corrode,
Like bricks of their own forts,
The significance drifts away from the shores of our modern plastic lives,
I know you've heard of the beauty of their past, but tell me?
Do you know of the story behind those closed doors?

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This poem was written on my visit to the Taj Mahal, one of the most acknowledged architectural jewels of India and the world. As I walked through trying to understand the history behind its making and its maker, I also found myself surrounded by people who cared less about the history and more about taking photographs to show to their friends. It struck me how we are slowly letting the “historic” aspect take a backseat focusing on only the exterior beauty of this rock and cement instead of the more implicit motive of its coming together.