Temple (Revised 2/2011)
Yaxha, Tikal, La Blanca.
The stones beneath my feet
are ancient and solid.
From the top my eyes reach
distances hundreds of miles and
thousands of years from here.
Below, the rainforest, la selva.
Llena de arboles, it covers the ground
beneath us like soft, swaying, moss.
Beyond, the lake glimmers beneath a hazy sunset.
It's filled to the shore with crocodiles;
Its shores stretch on and on.
Above, piles of billowy clouds meander
across a deepening sunset sky. The purple-grey
of a far off rainstorm threatens.
Yaxha, Tikal, La Blanca.
The stones beneath my feet
are thousands of years old.
Their fathers are no longer with us,
but a legacy, built brick by brick,
now lifts me into the sky.
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