Pre Rup Temple, Study I, Angkor, Cambodia. 2021

Where the Gods Dwell

They say the stones remember flame,
and in this place, the fire sleeps still –
a stair of ash, a sky of smoke,
a hush that bends the jungle's will.

Five towers rise like whispered names
of gods whose mouths are sealed with dust,
yet in their eyes, the cosmos turns,
and stars are carved in crumbling rust.

The temple breathes with sacred breath,
not built, but born from myth and stone –
a spine of earth, a gate of sky,
where man ascends, and stands alone.

No wind dares cross the threshold’s line,
no bird dares pierce the silence deep –
for here, the heavens brush the ground,
and time itself forgets to sleep.

The gods have gone, or so we say –
yet something waits within these walls,
a flicker caught in shadow's edge,
a voice that in the silence calls.

Step lightly, soul, and do not speak –
this is no place for mortal sound.
You walk among the breath of gods,
where stone and spirit both are bound.

– Varro, 2021

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