Ancient Promenade

Dancing horses spiral across stolen, dark
Spots of hidden spaces, with querist’s faces,
Searching the night for ancient traces,
Inking clues that blot the beckoning mark.

Painted stones steer seekers to the sight,
Brightening the past of primeval rites.
Prancing stallions spiral up the slanted walls
Divining a future that waits to tell all.

Their twirling motion suffuses the meaning
Of all the colors now blending, now streaming,
Spelling no answers to an unrhyming riddle,
Locking and unlocking the myst’ry time harshly riddles.