An anecdote from Deh-lee

Some days,
I walk these empty roads,
Full of empty souls,
Where I saw them build minarets,
Over dried up shoals.

Tell me o'brother,
Do they face west too?
You ask,
I wonder,
Putting all my thoughts to task.

And then,
I see the dark sky,
And no stars shining by,
Just a moon,
That stares into an abyss.

I see all this,
And much more,
In the eighth city,
Built over the dead bodies,
Of past seven.

As I walk,
Midst,
These crushed dreams,
Giving rise to a bag full of stories,
Bursting at the seams.