Antiquity Sculpture Wing

Chiseled by bare hands
Millenniums ago,
How they worshipped
The human form
In its apparent perfection
Knowing these statues
Will last to the last of men.
Their blood is
Frozen in marble,
Their eyes reflect
The whiteness of afterworld,
Their bodies in the rapture
Of stillness.

Here I come for sanctuary
Alone but for a napping guard.
I stand face to face
With this cult of luxuries,
Their bodies polished
To a chilling sensuality.
In silence they sacrifice
Their desires
Of union in cold flesh,
Their minds immune
To demon dreams
Of the drunken gods
Sleeping in Elysium.