Preah Kahn

As at the time of old Khmer there raised
A palace fit for Hindoo god and king,
Whose help to fix with potted fish and praise
The staggered throngs came in to cook and sing;
And storied squares ensampled in the wild
A portage for Parvati on the lake;
The continents they clutched in courses piled,
Or saught a linga for ablution’s sake.
As though the damp and dormant cavern flew
To meet in sad mislike the burning sky,
’Twas not a native mountain which they hewed,
But raised a crypt where kings nor live nor die.
So spare a song for dusky Mount Meru;
It brightens the mote of thy quest anew.

-Simeon Sanchez