Ruins

Photograph by J. Trent

Ruins

By John Trent

Canopy of leaves, green shadows of gold

Cicadas and crickets chanting rituals of old

Heavy the air, sweet scent of decay

Mist of the morn waits the dawning day

Shadowy jungle, the olden road winds

Specters of stone wrapped in moss and bent vines

Centered in the plaza, so ancient and vast

Ruins return to the Great Maya's past

Hand-carved stone with angles sharp

The obsidian temple is distant and dark

Outlines of grandeur appear by K’in’s rays

The brilliance of spring’s equinox opens the gate

Chaacmol's drum echoes and thunders

Silent and strong stand the old Mayan warriors
The Serpent God lies on the stairway of stone
Feathers of white, his eyes distant and cold

Dawn blurs the boundaries of heaven and earth

Kulkulkan ablaze from his solar rebirth
As K'in soars skyward, the old serpent fades

The past is the present and forever replays