Mortal deities
in symmetric rows
spreading their legs
in their eternal dance
knees and arms pliés
individual faces
individual bodies
in momentary ecstasy
wearing to a frazzle
captured in freestone
caught by serpent roots
of monstrous trees
as protecting spells
under the moist jungle green
dancing on damp lotus

Who are they?

Their melodious plot
still unheared but sweet
their wondrous dance
still unseen but intriguing
chiselled stone walls
in all shades of grey
slightly decomposed
sandstone historians
telling tales though
keeping their secrets
of a world long ago
destroyed yet preserved:
Beauty is truth,
truth beauty.
That is all we know.