Echoes of Palenque: Ancient Whispers in the Jungle

 In Palenque's ancient embrace,  

Where lizards dart and waterfalls grace,  

Ruins rise with tales untold,  

Yet crowded paths leave stories cold.

Temple heights, once climbed with glee,  

Now barred from view, a memory.  

Jungle whispers, hot and lush,  

Echo with Maya's ancient hush.

Through the heat and tangled green,  

We walked the paths where stories gleam,  

Intricate designs on weathered stone,  

Echoes of a world far gone.

Amidst rude tourists and bustling morn,  

We sought solace where howlers mourn.  

Talks of zero, of stars so bright,  

Ancient wisdom lit our sight.

Corn, once grass, a gift divine,  

Brought wealth that built these shrines.  

Howler cries and parrot's squawk,  

In Palenque's heart, our minds did walk.

A child's eyes, a canvas pure,  

Drinking in this historic lure.  

Though memories fade as years accrue,  

Palenque's lessons forever true.

Photo Credit: Tina Winterlik