The concrete towers scrap the sky,
Where modern wire and window meet,
While shadowed figures hurry by
Along the black and paved street.
Yet tucked beneath the stony height,
An ancient roof of tile appears,
A temple catching modern light,
Defying all the passing years.
A fleeting car, a moment still,
The old and new together stay;
Time moves along with iron will,
But yesterday is here today.
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