This is the house in which

No ordinary mortal was allowed to live.

It was an abode

Where starved lions lost their appetite

On sighting a hapless, prostrate mortal.

Inside of it peerless mountains

Could be yanked from their roots

And planted in the sea.

Lifeless mortals that wandered into it

Were re-awarded their itinerant souls

On a platter of a fiat.

Here, heaven’s tear glands were shut up

For three and a half, uninterrupted calendar years.

That was then.

Presently, only a very few hand-picked mortals

Dare enter and live therein

Even among that negligible elect,

Many charlatans there are

Who claim rentage for an edifice

They knew not how the foundation was lain,

Interested only in its pecuniary returns.

These pretenders have allowed

The weeds and the webs to consume

What, sometime, was an architectural wonderpiece.