That drive
It’s like no other
You begin within the confines of humanity
Journey across its ingenuity
With an awed gasp at the span of potential fulfilled
As it glitters, reflecting off the muddy waters
The spires that pass above tell of harmony
Between imagination and trigonometry
The abstract and the stoic
That is the brainchild of mankind

Then there are the silent watchers
Whose patience overbears
Like the immenseness of their stature
White-capped, standing steadfast
The three guardians of a valley
That shifts beneath their feet

To flee their influence
Is to draw further into it
Now the watchers grow in number
And their protection shields even against
The harpoons of the sun
The colors of their tribe are painted
Green, upon every leaf
Joy is in the brightened fruit and
Somber are the muted tones of
Those who put the dead to rest

At once you feel both
Impelled to circumvent this hallowed ground
To so preserve its sanctity
And the desire to be absorbed within it
To lose yourself in such dynamic dormancy
So you pass through with reverence
And awe, gathering the sense
That there is something true
About this place
Which strikes a chord within a wandering soul

Then, emerging from the sanctuary
Spy humans’ work of different palette
That which brings security and comfort
A daily life and a routine
Juxtaposed to throws of nature
Lies the everlasting equilibrium
Between sophistication and the civilized