Triangles Eternal

Triangles Eternal

The night is iron ore, the sky as black as flint  
and stars,like sparks of silver innocently glint;
time, itself, seems melted down, its vital essence tamed
by these strange forms; so silently, so perfectly framed
against an opal moon where, like lava flowing,
the desert sands ripple, orange embers glowing.

Triangles eternal- shapes cut out of the night,
each one a prism absorbing a beam of light
that inculcates unseen sinews of stone,
down a deep shaft that threads the inner cone
until, slowly, revealing a once secret room,
an ancient burial chamber; a pharoah's tomb.

Perhaps, like Tutankhamun, his face a mask of solid gold.
To imagine; conceive of? Yet to actually behold?
Bold amulets and jewels, all red, blue and green,
in a chaos of colour that glitters and gleams;
or his chariots, his magnificent treasure;
a moment so precious it is beyond measure.

Now the light's dimmer, gradually leaks away,
throwing a dark shroud over the place he still lay.
The beam retreats along the shaft; to now return
to a dark sky, where a few stars still faintly burn.

Soon the sands grow brighter, the sky a sapphire blue
and, as if all the myths were suddenly come true,
a golden sun rises-a new day dawns-
and the pyramids now are burnished bronze.