Ruins for my mother inspired by the Chilam Balam III All over Mexico the ruins of Civilizations dot the country. Monuments to the Aliens that came from the blue-green sky, to show the inhabitants how to build, how to live. Or A testimony to the ingenuity of the Egyptians, sailing reeds across the sea. Made to do so by Ra; to demonstrate the majesty of the Pharo-gods. By building pyramids and then returning home. Placing the bodies of the dead, native kings into the inner chambers. Perhaps, A recollection of a people who burn becoming cinders in the blowing wind, out to sea. A people who continue to burn as they move north and weep. Weep, for ash does not suffer. Grow, Instead new monuments to yourself. Cease, to burn the twigs of hate. Instead, use them to build true testimonies of ingenuity; for you, for me, Us. IV In the early days of archeology, The archaeologists came to carve their names into the rocks, to celebrate their own identities along side pre-Columbian nobility. These academics must have raised up their hammers and picks to carve away at immortality. I won't mention their names. I refuse to be an accomplice to the blows they struck against archeology. V The National Museum in Mexico City would have been empty if it weren't for replicas. Come look at this, the original's in England, the attic of the world. A manuscript, re-copied from memory the original, burned. A quetzal head dress, it's on loan from Austria. A mural of the Aztec underworld. Re-done. The wall it was painted on was torn down. The people who burn once had gifts for their gods Gifts that celebrated themselves, gifts that were witness to the destruction of the jaguar.Birth sign: Aquarius
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