Taj Mahal revisited

I've been mulling this over for a couple of months,  trying to capture the weird feelings I experienced visiting the Taj Mahal for the second time.  The haiku I originally wrote isn't sufficient - they rarely are for wordy me - so I've turned it into a haibun, which is a blend of prose poem and haiku. 


Setting: same.  Framing: same.  Emotion: flat.  Travel-tired after the Red Fort's massive morning splendour, the marble workshop's familiar afternoon soft-sell, the white mausoleum floating above its gardens' perfect symmetry illicits no awe, no momentary stop of the heart, no catch of breath. Instead, a green-painted bench affords a glimpse into many lives, conjured by conversations passing by.

Second time around
White marble no longer wows;
Magic found elsewhere.


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