My feet touched the cool marble,

and my eyes scoured the intricate designs woven into the walls of fading whiteness,

my hands brushed the sharp folds of the statuesque pillars,

while half-standing behind one the rays of the sun came around and beckoned me.

I walked towards an oak tree that was slit from the middle all the way down to the bottom,

all hollow, all dark, but yet majestic in bearing.

The muezzin’s call for prayers rang out, 

and began in a haunting tilt of voice.

I sat down on the dewy green and watched the world pass me by,

slow and steady. 

I could come back there and still watch people brush past me, ever so softly,

perhaps passing a bit of themselves onto me.

I looked back at it,

and thought someday. 

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