Rome (-66 Days-)

Brilliant are the lights that dance like flames
along the endless, freely flowing ancient sky, tonight untamed
which shelters the crumbling work below
the uncertain standings of timeless ruins, holding history still unknown
in the foundations of their grandeur
so immortal are the memories there, and the stories graciously pour
seeping through the cracks
where solemn men once leaned upon their aching, weary backs
of the pillars still standing tall, not greater than the victory
that spills around the breaking walls
and the music that can still be heard, no sweeter was it long ago
than now, as inquisitive fingertips brush along their surfaces below
ears inclined to hear the hymns
sung from a thousand voices carried by a thousand winds
and the musty smell of savory spices still lingering
in the halls once filled with hauntingly, resounding singing
in a language unspoken
cutting the tangible, heavy air so long unbroken
voices of deep, abyssal strength
pulled from hours of chanting the feeling of pain
when death once filled the chambers in malicious, dark form
of angered men with hearts enraged and yet, shamefully forlorn
the battle begun and now
there is but this left to show that among their rage, somehow
victory had her sweet revenge
to leave the temples standing strong enough, clear the hateful stench
and draw the people to them like gold
to witness the triumph of beauty, and ask them to reverently behold
what came after the fallen reign
what did not crumble, and the magnificence of old that still remained
and now, we marvel at such a place.