a poem by Richard Gildea, UK - poetry writer, author, poet

Couchant in repose, surveying all who come through time to call
Guardian of the pharaoh’s tomb, this 'Giza' with the lions paws
Khafre’s countenance looks out, unseeing with all knowing sight
On those who seek the wisdom of the ancients journey to the stars

Desert ships sail by on seas of sand, in caravans of mirage state
Never ending onward trek, unsure from even whence they came
Secrets not forthcoming ‘Neath the polyhedron house of stone
In chambers deep within they sleep, cocooned in treasured fate

Blasted by the wind borne grains, my edge of fear has worn away
With muted roar and sense of smell no longer evident to some
I face uncertain future with no hieroglyphs to call my own
No ancient message to impart, no key within Rosetta Stone


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