In Yutacan, where Mayan mind
Once ruled a fabled land
A mighty structure stands its side
It is a temple of the wind

Tumul its name, once whispered wide
Upon this jungled horn
An ancient place, revered its past
Where paintings crown the work of sides

Where throngs of people shuffle past
The guardians used to stand
In stern Castillo, facing seas
To read the fates and seek what lasts

In thirteen, four, and nine beneath
The learned Maya homed
Within their Four their patterns bore
The lasting truth of their belief

Pale shadow now our vision sees
Of order once so fine
But stop the crowd and touch the wind
To feel the peace before decline.
©Stephen Tanham



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