Song of the Pyramids

Dawn already reached the shoulders of the dunes, Tanning the sandy hills, from beige to parchment-yellow. The white sun reaching its zenith, Gradually ripening as the day sweeps by. Silhouetted against the washed blue of the sky. A glimpse in the distance. A liquid shadow, ethereal and dancing. Closer and closer, The mirage materializes into solid wonder. Finally my feet rest on the sugary sands, I feel its dry crumbling as I walk, Eyes transfixed, Towards the remarkable relic. Divine perfection of architecture. Enlightened masterpiece, Its brothers stand nobly at its side. Immemorial giants, They stand, as they have stood since ancient times. Surveying a hazy view of the ghosts and shades of Egyptian enigma. Serenity given form. Picture of grandeur. The Great Pyramid, the rocky staircase to paradise Upon which immortal kings have stepped. It reaches into the tranquil skies with outstretched arms of stone. The sun drips its molten gold and slides down the jagged sides. Waves of blazing brassy yellow drape the four dimensions In gentle shade and boiling light. The pyramid of King Chephren, Capped in the enduring limestone, Crowned like the royalty in its tombs. But the body, stripped as bare as its colossal brother. As I descend, the pyramid casts its cloak of damp warmth around me. It fills my mouth, I savour the subtle taste. Through the narrow passages I climb, The walls crushing the very air I breathe, And then suddenly opening up to the naked room, Our humble destination. I move, as though under a spell, To place my hands on the rough stone. And the bars that imprison me, melt. I free myself to dance to the chanting, The song of the Pyramid. By Zaneta Georgiades