Labyrinthian days of yore, of valour;
over yonder, yesteryear—
remembered mere by pictures taken
in tones of sun-bleached ebonies and creams.

I often ponder over dear vanilla skies;
the sepia-stained skin of palaces,
castles, temples, cathedrals;
here and there and everywhere—
all raised with unquestionable ease it seems.

In days of colour; here and now,
currently as one writes—
I cannot help but raise an eyebrow,
scratch my chin that frames a ruffled frown,
at these divine-inspired sights.

Sculpted by the gods, surely?
At the very least by those who grew
such close affinity with these
otherworldly deities.

Oh, to gaze with the gaieties
of wonder and amazement,
at holy dreamscapes, reflected
in monolithic hallways, pillars, columns;
reaching to the very heavens ahigh—
in eternal brickwork that laughs
in the aged face of time—
in angelic stone and marble carvings,
immovably made to move in you
an allegory, perhaps in pain and agony,
and too in hope and glory—
in every hallowed and sublime,
impossible inch and ounce
of their implausible design.

For whoever shall try and outrun
the magnetic pull of majesty
in truth and grandeur, must align
in whole or part
to the arrogance of kings—
shall abdicate all moral logic,
curse gravity where one stands,
plunge headfirst into an abyss of hands,
outreached in blissful ignorance
despite the glaring absence of wings.

© Joseph Chin
#history #ancient #god #mystery #architecture #beauty #inspiration