Under the pyramid lays a worker,
And on top,
Is a statue.

The infrastructure is fifty-seven percent clay,
And the statue is one-hundred percent papyrus.

Floods rise,
And floods die.

And eat the structure,
Inside out.

No ritual exists without the co-exsisting of a devil.

The gold, we eat,
But the satisfaction is endless.

We pray above and we pray below.

And those prayers fade,
Into this round global world.

by Carlos Gutierrez

Comments (3)

The Muse is rebuked for neglecting the poet's friend. But the answer is suggested that the friend needs no eulogy. Truth expresses herself in the colour of his countenance, and true beauty requires no pictorial embellishment. Description and adornment would vitiate and adulterate what is pre-eminently excellent. Still, the Muse must not decline the suggested task; for it is her privilege to confer long-enduring renown.
Awesome I like this poem, check mine out
...........deep thoughts on truth and beauty...enjoyed...