In ancient Lothal ,a combination could be lethal.
Here a combinatorial creativity enhanced a pool
To pretending jetty for far off ships of merchandise.
Ghosts had done their bit in their broken plinths
Their ghostly footprints disappeared in shrubs.
They had streets with dirty water running under
And houses of brick and mortar,with living dreams.
The potsherds were all gathered up in a museum.
The ghosts were potsherds , standing on one leg.
Their thin insubstantialness went up to a hot sun
Showing up in cowherd clothes, waiting for a bus.
The then cowherds along with cows turned souls
Standing on ,among the potsherds of the then mud.
Mud comes in its combinations of things and men.
We break to reinvent them afresh all through time
Under the same sky, with a blazing sun studded in it.
The next time you visiit an archaeology site look for
Potsherds of our earthy existence among its pottery.