Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Machu Picchu

Sacred Valleys turn time and spirits rustle through my bones
Spinning over cliffs ancient stones hidden in rocks and paths to nowhere
Floating on mountain tops before sunrise
Its different from up here all these steps leading to existences that have ceased to exist
A battle to see the dwellings listening to buses course up and down the tracks
Comfortably seated tourists waiting for the wonder snapping photos of what they can not feel
Hidden in the jungle scratching for a path
Running into cliffs and waterfalls in the night
Three children, playing mountain men and gypsies
Clashing in the night, temper tantrums and cursing at rocks and branches
Weary wanderers destined for a destination
Sun brings warmth and paths and a way to see the future
Alighting magical wonderment of ruins and lost cities above the cliffs of the world
Like a bird of paradise rested above a pine forest
Lines of fiction
Vining timeless riping moments
Lost paradise
Rockside mountain tops quake spirits and slide stories
Perched above the world
Alone and not so lonely
We are the spirits, we are the mountains, we are the twinkling light in the universe

No comments:

Post a Comment