Below, there are statues,
Shrines and idols to gods unknown.
Their forms so very foreign,
Yet a dark familiarity emanates.
Those gods there enshrined,
In their primordial temples built long ago,
I know are yet to be worshiped —
Yet to emerge to the surface above
And claim their myriad followers.
Those great figures of stone —
I feel they are alive,
Waiting and bidding their limitless time,
Until they may rise.
Though I am keenly aware
Of a growing suspicion
That they already have.