Like the Parthenon on the Acropolis,
It rises above the cramped roads and
Pavement crowded with commuters.
The grand temple of New York City’s
Marble floors glisten, freshly waxed,
And the holy scriptures on the walls
Light up in LED and claim passages
Of Queens and The Bronx,
Brooklyn and Manhattan
Through the vaulting grid-patterned windows
Lone beams of sunlight shine–
The ones that aren’t blocked by
Towering monuments to corporations–
And let dust float aimlessly within.
Stone pillars hold up the heavens,
Which is painted a shade of most verdant green,
A strange choice for the night sky.
Yellow stars stand unblinking in the emerald fields,
As a menagerie of mythos is keeping watch.
The stars’ guardian spirits are drawn around them
So man doesn’t have to wonder what they were
And can focus on the objective.
Somewhere deep within, a creature slithers into its burrow.
The voice of the gods announce its arrival
In accordance to the scriptures
That were written on the wall.
I would’ve visited him, but I could bear him no gifts.
Nobody was there to give me mine, anyways.