HISTORY LIVES

HISTORY LIVES

The babble of Babel by hearsay known,

Lives now in stone,

A million carvings to the sky,

'mongst the Temples of Maduri,

Under a patina of oil and smoke slicks,

Black from centuries of guttering wicks,

Floors worn and polished by unshod feet,

That padded through a Thousand Pillars
in the heat,

Painted walls, and granite Gods in the din,

Whilst all around history's vibrant living kin,

Sellers of spices and trinkets that clash,

Seething flesh and silken flash,

And jasmine smells,

Wafting their emotional spells.

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