your body is a temple

Your body is a temple

in decay.  The tangled vines

of Angkor Wat, the clay

of Ur, the trembling legs

and quivering sneer

of one who once

as confident as 

Ozymandious 

would stay 

in patient vigil:

for the sand 

to hand these words

back to the jungle,
back to the desert
back to the wind.