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La Caida de Mochu Pichu |
The early wisp flowed across its breath as the morning came knocking to reveal the ancient deeds of men. Stone circles and walls lay scattered before the dawn. Only the wind calls the names of those who lived here. Only solitude reigns, where once this refuge held; the many more who lived the lore and braved this lofty trail. What life took place within this Keep, upon this grassy summit steep. But no one knows the story true, but only those, the martyred few; who ran before Pissaro's hand in search of castles made of sand; More than mystery visits here in stark remembrance of the few that disappeared. Though they never left, they simply forgot and exchanged their idols for a cross, that weights them till this day in burdening stoop; Only a colorful ghostly parade of the original glory remains in costume, dance and weathered face. On a rocky crop a Condor sits to behold the past within the present and the far flung craggy approaches to this place in its thin air, hanging on a precipice of the majesty that was and the beauty that is, Mochu Pichu. |