He Sits In Silence
 by Teri Sharp
I walk in the shadow of the pyramids,
My path illuminated by the gleam
Of the magical lamp of initiation--
This is no phantom nor mortal dream
Conjured by the labyrinth of my mind,
But an enigmatic, veiled remembrance
Of a mystic life forgotten, but anew I find.
Of days spent in worship and dance,
Seeking shelter from the hot midday sun,
Between the paws of the Sphinx I recline,
Speaking to the mysterious man-lion
Intuitively, mind to mind.
His eyes, so intent and ageless
Have seen many revelations;
Sandstorms have clouded his vision,
His tears composed of Nile inundations.
In ancient times, his eyes would close
At sunset--nightly, he would doze,
Then, rising on all fours, he'd stretch
And yawn as the sun arose.
But now he sits in silence,
A source of mythic lore,
Waiting for his children to return
To the magical days of yore. |
