Thoughts on visiting the stadium at Olympia in Greece
The Mute Stones Speak
Aegean blue in a timeless land
White waves roll and become white sand
Blue domes rise above whitened walls
We stop and listen as history calls
Toppled columns, temple in disarray
Where once proud runners stopped to pray
Now the shuffling of tourists' feet
Moving in deafness in summer's heat
But we who have seen through Homer's muse
Can in Olympia's stadium still hear the news
Thalpis of Sparta has won the race
The olive wreath now shades his face
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