When The Kingdom First Whispered

This poem is a work of complete fiction and imagination. While it draws loosely from historical themes such as the Arab conquest of Persia, it does not aim to represent any historical event, religion, culture, or community with accuracy or bias.

The narrative of revenge, resurrection, and forgotten kingdoms is symbolic, rooted in the personal journey of memory, identity, and inner transformation. No element in this poem promotes hatred, violence, or revenge against any group—past or present.

It is meant to evoke wonder, reflection, and poetic storytelling, not conflict or division.

I dreamt of lands that were ancient,

The castles, soldiers and people felt sentient,

Trees were wild where the seeds were sown,

The moments were sweet and the reason unknown!

The towers were tall and filled with hope,

No one can claim it with the help of their rope,

The path was warm even when moonlight filled the air,

I hope that I must not be lost somewhere!

I never knew these lands before,

I do feel whether I am ashore?

Also the place seemed to know me by my name,

I regret forgetting this place and am ashamed!

Who sleeps may rise, if dreams refuse to end,

A kingdom calls. I almost called it… friend.

I walked through the gates of Kings there were gold,

It didn’t look like something that was too old,

The wind blew through the hall deep and wide,

The stones and pillars stood with pride!

A throne of splendour stood before me,

That looked more splendid than the Holy See,

The Velvet was still intact, the carvings lived,

The whole thing must have a place in the archives!

The orb, spectre and the jewels shined,

The reflection made the eyes go blind,

Deep within, grows a kind of trust, 

That this should not be a trap to make me dust.

No voice remains to name who wore the crown,            

But in my dreams, I never bow—I frown. 

I found a great green garden behind the castle walls,

The plant of ivy created a splendid emerald necklace for the halls,

The gates looked stunning but turned red due to rust, 

As if it pierced the enemies with a single thrust.

The air was filled with scents that I could not name,

The land looked as if it played a lover’s game,

The smell that readily melts the hearts of iron,

The smell that brings compassion even to a lion,

There I saw a single white flower, 

That bloomed beneath the tall black tower,

The touch of its petal birthed the night,

But the flower began to produce its light,

I knew this place. My laughter lived right here,         

The garden once had bloomed for someone dear. 

The clanging steps of soldiers filled the sand, 

Their spears looked fiery in their hand,

Their shields were suns, and the helmets were the glaze,

It looked as if they waited for me for days!

I stood in front of them without the steel,

The roaring pride that I never meant to feel,

I think the banners of red, purple and yellow called me,

To that land where soldiers were like rising sea!

The way they marched towards the garden, 

It made my heart even more harder,

In my beats, I realised a prince,

The one who leads them against foes is convinced.

Their footsteps echoed deep inside my bones           

As if I marched beneath those ancient tones. 

They came up to me with a huge mirror,

My heart beat faster when it reached nearer,

The frame was not of gold and care,

The thing was seen for not I was prepared!

It was a king who wore big crown,

Upon whose death, his people still frown,

The one who claimed to be the shadow of god, 

The remains of whose body is now hard.

He raised his hand while seated on the throne,

I too raised for the fear of unknown,

His eyes looked like mine, but aged, 

All I could see was that he was raged!

“I ruled this land,” I whispered, low and slow—         

“Before the stars forgot my name below.” 

Besides the tower, there was a silent lake,

A woman turned towards me as if I’d never wake,

The robes signified her royalty as it was purple and blue,

The way she looked at me, I don’t have any clue.

Her soft voice lingered in my mind, 

‘Atlast you found the path again’

Suddenly I remembered her face and name,

All I could now imagine was a lion with a mane!

‘You left’, she said, ‘when the fire touched the sky’

‘You promised to return when the time is high’

‘Your subjects were filled with hope’,

‘Don’t let them think out of scope’

I touched her hand—and woke with empty air.         

Yet still I dream. She waits for me… somewhere. 

The sky was now in crimson red with cries,

The children, women and the old left in cries, 

The place was fully burnt with smoke,

All they could do was to pray to those who never spoke.

I saw my name on the palace of Sarvestan,

I could now understand that the revenge has began,

In that Fire, I saw the face of fate, 

I realised that it is high to resist the oppressors at the gate!

As horns of war screamed across the stone,

I knew that in this war, I am not alone.

Each tower hailed the land of the nobles,

Now joy entered into the hearts of locals!

I woke with sweat, the smoke still in my breath.        

I lived that fire. I ran. I moved towards death. 

Now that I woke up, I found the morning not quite true,

The birds sung on my windows, the ones who would flew,

The sun was like the torch that I knew once,

Above my throne, the skies turned blue.

My room was same, but the way not it seemed,

The old world, though my window, softly gleamed.

The mirror showed me in royal thread,

And the towers stood tall without any of its people dead.

I walked in the streets, both ancient and today,

Somehow deep inside me, I found the way,

Everyone bowed to me, but nobody knew who I was!

Still the dream haunted me, making me imagine how it was!

Two worlds now meet within my quiet mind,          

And in that space, the prince I was, I found.

Upon the hill where once my castle stood,           

I knelt and touched the earth that knew my name,       

The stones still sang beneath the ash and wood,        

As if they called me back to bear the flame.   

      

The ghostly crowd rose soft from dust and sun,         

Their faces kind, their voices deep and old,          

They cried, “The prince returns—the buried one!”       

And all the ruined world began to hold.  

          

A crown of light appeared upon my brow,           

No weight it bore, yet all the stars did shine,         

And though I live in modern days, not now—          

I rule two realms: the waking and divine.  

                    

For dreams remember what the world forgets—        

A soul once king is always king….