Persepolis
These thrones belong to no man
These forty columns and shadowed minarets
are a compass
they light the way to the Apadana Palace
to the Tripylon, to the whispered brilliance
of a fractured star
The acid rain crumbles away
the stones of history that rest at its base
mar and raze, spoil and amber
this Mountain of Mercy will one day shatter
and these archways belong to no God
these soldiers march to the hum of the moon
and the bull's crescent horns guide them
to the castle fields
where they sleep
YOU ARE READING
Tearful Canvas: A Collection
PoetryA book of poetry. My very own twisted sanctuary - pieces of art, history, love, hate, and everything in between.
