Towards a new Sun

NB:- I hate poems and poets in general. Because most of the time, poetry is what people do when they feel lazy because prose requires sharper words, more number of words and more thought. Of course, some poems are an exception to the above and a class apart. This one below is not. 

Move aside.
Move aside, garlands, symbols, imagery and image-less.
To the side, beards and ashes.
To the side, rahu and ketu and shaitan.

And the old vultures encircling the bleeding carcass,
And the false red flags on the battlefield,
Burn.
They are here.

Destroying the gates, walls and the useless legends.
And stories that tell you what needs to be done.
Dusting the antique to see its worth
Wisdom, courage and humanity.

Hear them, descending down the mountains.
Each prisms of their past.
And yet lightly packed on their horses.
Each deciding the quantum they will bear.

Firm but light steps.  New rules.
Deep roots into a soil that sustains.
And yet winged to rise.
A lump of clay shaped by words.
Words that are blind.
Onwards.
To a new sun.