And that, it was made by men
In that, it was raised for men
Who were mighty, chosen amongst men
For a journey destined beyond of men.
And that, this obsession of men
Was carried as rituals, rigours of men
With extreme rites and rules of men
In sand, on stone, borne by men.
In boxes, boats and bodies of men
They wait for men to return as men
For eternity seems, in the hands of men
To stall, to wall and by the will of men,
Time, tide and the story of men.
And yet, we see these Gods made by men
Are now weathered and waned, as do men
Plundered, punished and ported by men
To places where vanity has affected men.
Those who ruled over all men
Are now stared at and sullied by men
Glory lost, treasures taken to men
Who then sold them to other men.
Yet, there is this presence among us men
As something that pervades in all men
Unseen, unheard and unknown to men
Silent, steady and superior to men.
Something that is not a thing like men
Someone that has no name like men
Seen only by eyes that are not of men
Felt by senses rarely used by men.
The pyramids were surely made by men
Yet there is something that is beyond men
That holds their secret unknown to men
Built in a spirit, that is now lost to men.
by Samarendra M. Ramachandra
Featured image: Samarendra M. Ramachandra