The silky waves of mist caress
the temple, lost in times of dust,
and all the memories of past
within, in silent tenderness.
It's been a long time since in-here
the last steps left as gift their sound,
and on the stony steps around
there's nothing now - no hope, no fear...
Sometimes, the dark becomes alive,
and from the corners of the night
a strange and very silent sight
of shadows crawls and wants to strive
against the time...against the pain...
against the future and the past,
against the death...against the dust...
against oblivion's soft chain...
together priest's and faithfuls’ eyes
are looking almost as in trance
at how the ghostly fires dance
and how the ancient temple dies...
It's quiet now...a ray of moon
is sliding slowly on the floor...
but no one's walking through the door...
no veiled priestess...no priest...and soon
the sun will rise...the dream will go...
and all the spirits from the past
will let the temple fall and rust
and join in peace the world below...