Of Kings and Gods.

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372
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It’s like a step across times; decades, and eternities,
flowing like a river that goes back instead of forth until coming to a standstill.

The sky, and the earth around you, all seem to whisper a story that hums the tune of the past, And your eyes, see but still search through the broken walls and empty corridors,
hoping to find answers to the questions you yet do not know.

They always say that old temples have stories to tell.
And this one had a share of its own.
A single naked step on its cold floors hums with the sensation of living through a thousand lifetimes,
Even when you know you’ve been on this earth for only one.
The concept of rebirth is no more than a myth, yet,
you see the hands of your ancestors' gliding across the structure, beckoning you inside,
until those hands turn into yours.

You hear laughter,
voices echoing in the darkest corners,
Speaking of a time when there was glory written on these walls,
The sound of footsteps follows you as you walk.
Broken roads and broken buildings;
Palaces of kings and gods, forgotten, and forgiven too, for their tragedies.

The moment passes in a trance.
You feel yourself drifting through it; the past and the present.
Walls turn vibrant and ashen in front of your eyes in a blink,
Rooms grow crowded and vanish in seconds.
You see colour fill her lips, the statue you’ve been watching since you got here,
Dying them crimson before turning pale again,
A hint of a smile appearing on her lips before fading into nothing.

Reality wraps in the most beautiful of ways around you as you watch her,
And sunlight wraps with it,
Turning yellow to golden, orange to red,
Before disappearing completely,
Leaving you under a pictch black sky, forcing you to close your eyes in terror.

By the time you open them again,
The whispers are gone.
No sound echoes through the hallways you walk on.
No laughter is heard.

Sunlight burns the land and trees around you as you look at her again,
And realise she is nothing but a broken statue with a broken hand,
Standing tall as everything too crumbles around here.

Of Kings and Gods. | Ecency