These sentinels monolithic
On platforms of lights and grasses,
Receiving messages from masses
Of prayers hieroglyphic.
Their battles, not even ashes
Left, perceived victors idyllic.
In spoken words giants extend
A show for all, whose rules sustain
Our allowance to there remain.
Here I am, in chasing their trend,
Cursed by ample thoughts profane
Wondering, can I be their friend?