The Seven Wonders

The Seven Wonders

I walked the earth to find its stories,

to feel the breath of ancient stone,

I traced the steps of distant dreamers,

and learned how small a life can be.

The Great Wall moved along the mountains,

a silver line through mist and time,

I felt its weight in quiet footsteps,

a thousand lives beneath my feet.

I stood by Rome where voices linger,

the Colosseum scarred and proud,

its floor was built on blood and glory,

its silence louder than the crowd.

Through sculpted rock I reached for Petra,

a city carved in burning red,

its walls still hold the heat of longing,

and secrets kings refused to share.

At sunrise high above the valleys,

Machu Picchu touched the sky,

I breathed the cold of hidden kingdoms,

and watched the morning kiss the stones.

The Christ of Rio watched the ocean,

arms wide open to the wind,

I listened to the waves below it,

and felt a peace I had not known.

Chichén Itzá rose before me,

steps that climbed where stars once burned,

a voice that called to moonlit dancers,

to mark the life of earth and sun.

The Taj Mahal in gentle stillness,

was born from love and quiet tears,

its marble glowed like pale white memory,

unchanged by loss or passing years.

I wandered on through dust and wonder,

to hold their stories in my hands,

and in the hush of fading sunlight,

I saw the world made whole again.