A Southern temple

Here is part two as promised. 

Many colour bearing, is my towering refuge

Posing and striking down, the women climb you like ants

A taste of wealth for the Potbellied and seated men

So amply endowed are the gift of this red earth

I know thy tongue better than my own

Your labyrinth speaks more languages than Babel

A blood price for your embrace, yet your kindness traps

Wandering birds that forget to migrate

Sharp fanged and crimson is the Goddess

In her hand she holds a heart, maybe yours

Divine Southern land, so rich is your sanctum

The gold glitters brighter in the colour of your lamps

Every word an unwilling prayer, every corner history laden

Mislaid spiderwebs in the sun and wind, wash away like your equals

But you ancient earth still remain


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