Tuesday, 13 January 2015

This Place Once Sacred

The great beam stands
Carved with simple tools
Polished by the hands of many
Still shining in soft afternoon light
Held by pillars nine
Each standing clean and tall
Look closely and see each
Hewn from a single tree
Marks of blades and scars old do not mar
The beauty of simplicity
Of life gone now, yet purpose still

A soft breeze blows
Through openings where once stood
Monuments to paupers and heroes
Lending colour to entering light
Now the purity of sun's rays
Untouched by man

Leaves stir and move
Through space left
Years of mason's fine art
Faded patches on stone floor
All that remain
With the memory
Of a thousand wordless prayers
Eyes cast down gazing at nothing
Beyond a heart torn asunder

Dust shelters
Along walls unmarred by opening
Standing pale in darkness
Once lit by lamps of gold
From these walls hung
The very meaning of the word
Set in forms to catch the eye
And set the mind adrift
To return filled with understanding
Or perhaps
to not return at all
to wander lost
Seeking knowledge, understanding

The last light of dusk enters
Shining on a single block
Granite worn smooth
Carved with words in a tongue long dead
Meaning lost now
Still they glow
In this place once sacred

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