Rown

Beautiful and serene, That's What I used to call that place, That's where I used to pull up my thought's train, Watching It's beauty and grace, Watching pigeons feed, Staring at the masterpiece temples, Where I didn't need my earphones to accompany me , Watching Indrajatra and all, I grew in that place. While writing poems, I used to fall short on my words to describe it, It was more than beautiful, Bells and bird's sounds, They were music to my ears, It represented the city, Kathmandu, They were ornaments of this city, It held our cultures tightly, We were connected to it, Durbars, temples,  Big bell used to ring at every 9am, It was A place where I used to forget my troubles, A Place where I grew up. But now it all seems dull, As it's ashes lay down on the ground, Some wounded, some turned into dust, Crying for rescue, For help as it seems, And it breaks my heart As I watch it helples

You once stood tall touching the sky, And I passed almost every day by your side , Never thought you'll fall, Never thought we'll lose you this way, Never gave the attention you deserved, Never realised your value, Never got time to ascend you, But now your broken parts aches my heart, My strength broke with you, My heart broke into two, It cried for your demise, And for the lives you took with you. You were our pride, Who watched our every move, You showed people, A beautiful Kathmandu, But Now you've turned into a death grave, And I wish I had conquered your top to see the beauty that I crave, But all I see now is piles of bricks, And in my eyes it pricks. But I believe, There'll be the sunshine after rain, And you'll bloom like a flower, and rise from the same terrain. We'vent lost faith in you, We'll build you stronger than before, Higher than before, And Nepal, Our beautiful motherland will rise with you, Hands in hands