The Golden Marvel

The City of Splendors calls to us,
castle blazing on the horizon
like a golden beacon of light,
a siren song of wonder.

Ancient halls of kings
and soaring church towers
shelter within walls
of crenelated sentinels,
surrounded by a moat
of water clear and deep,

reflecting quietly
indigo skies above the road
that takes us to Shambala,
as the sun tucks itself in
for it's twilight rest--
just ahead
a new dawn waits for us.

We press on,
racing over cobblestone
with the wind at our back,
as it gusts with promise,
rippling the fields of heather,
urging us on
with an impatient sigh.

A luminous jewel,
the golden marvel twinkles,
glowing like embers
as torches crackle
from a thousand sconces
and fires warm the stone,

pushing back
the chill of night--
a promise of sanctuary
on a lonely plain
where all are welcome.

Search for us there
on the king's highway,
come take our hand
and together we'll enter
the machiolated gates
of the City of Splendors,
never to look back again.

Originally published under the nom de guerre, twowolves80, at https://allpoetry.com/poem/12823899-The-Golden-Marvel-by-Twowolves80 for a photo prompt contest that used the photo at https://secure.img2.wfrcdn.com/lf/maxsquare/hash/23093/17185165/1/Road-to-the-Golden-Marvel-by-Mathieu-Rivrin-Photographic-Print-on-Wrapped-Canvas-RV0040-C.jpg