Won't you read me?

Won’t you forgive me? I worshipped at your shrine earlier.
Fashionably drunk and drunkenly fashioned, you were mine earlier.

Will they punish me? I sheltered Babri's children.
Now doomed to vermilion fires, I believed in the divine earlier.

   

Won’t the dome rise? I danced in Umayyad's jade shimmer.
From where weapons shone, there Allah would shine earlier.

Will the stones hurt? I sang to Kabul's deserts.
Rolling amongst royals with scar tissue, chords were benign earlier.

Won’t the snow whiten? I detest scarlet mountains.
Born in Shalimar, for Shimla's whiteness I would pine earlier. 

Will I hope again? I do not know.
An ant beneath glass, Kanishk loved sunshine earlier.