As the eagle passed me by
I looked back, and tasted fear
At seeing the tree tops far below
But still I climbed, with the rope
Until I glimpsed an uneven floor
My knees were scraped, my whole body shaking
As I dragged myself up to stand
Far below me the white man called my name
His voice lost in the whistling wind.
I turned to the wall and saw
What no man for centuries had seen,
Many goddesses filled the walls
Their colours still fresh and glowing.
What long-dead hand had painted them?
Who last stood on this floor?
A snake slid past; the only one
On whom the goddesses smiled.
I looked down the rock.
Yes, Mr. Alick1, there is something here.