Pagan Temple under the Savior's Palace

Gravel crackles under my footfalls sounding
All the world like cockroaches carpet earth here
In this subterranean temple, empty
Save for the god’s ghost,

Sounds of water, flashbulbs like ancient candles…
Mithra’s spirit lingers here, dreams, recalling
Years long buried, days when the faithful brought him
Sacrifice sweet with

Salt and iron, rivers of bull-blood running,
Votive begging victory over darkness.
Now though, Mithra, wandering hallways ghostly
Slurps only marrow.

Saints’ bones, cracking, crumble in Mithra’s jaws now,
Graves long cold are icing between the layers
Church on church on temple where once a god learned
Nothing is sacred.