Pilgrims come from many lands
To traipse across the ancient sands.
They feel the air, and breathe in sounds,
From times long gone but still abounds.

Jerash, a ruined Roman city, once so fine,
Dotted with temples to the Gods divine,
Now tumbled into chaotic blocks of marble,
Some partially rebuilt to recreate past fable.

Petra, the rose-red city half as old as time,
Lit by a thousand candles in an atmosphere sublime,
To walk its Siq under a starry sky
Gives rise to a wonder one cannot deny.