Beneath the skies of Bangkok’s glow, Lies Wat Pho, where wonders grow. A temple vast, serene, divine, Its beauty etched in every line. Golden spires pierce heaven’s dome, Guardians still, where spirits roam. A tranquil place of wisdom’s flame, Its glazing charm, a timeless name. Through lenses bright, its tales unfold, Of monks in prayer and relics old. The Reclining Buddha, vast and grand, With gilded grace and peaceful hand. Glazed tiles reflect the sunlight’s play, Each step a dance, each corner a ray. The murals whisper stories untold, Of myths and truths in hues of gold. In every frame, a moment stays, Of Wat Pho’s calm, its ancient ways. A video glaze to hearts impart, The soul of Thailand, its beating heart.