Whence I came upon this monstrosity
I knew not what speech I ought utter nor actions to take
And left upon the hallowed earth the souls of all I had taken
An offering for the gods to pacify their rage
But from the midst a woman declined upon the altar’s steps
“Warrior, you offer souls, but where is yours to reap?”
Unprepared and fearful, the blade I took upon myself
But its edge and hilt did shatter upon my hand,
and tumbled as dust in the wind.
“Warrior, Emperor, Priest and Slave,
You have built a throne to Heaven,
On bloodshed doubly divine,
But see not that we reside within thine own hearts!”
“Excitations and power have ruled thy world,
but a greater power has blossomed within thy people!”
With that, the goddess clutched her chest and tore it open,
I gazed in terror, only to find the light of the sun.
“Unworthy am I to see such Light,”
Yet with great haste,
She pulled me down upon the stone,
Gripping my chest with violent intention.
In fearful trembling I wrought,
And her hands tore through my chest,
Revealing none other but the Light!
In great emanations did it shine!
“See! the Gift of the gods is the Light
Thou has carried always,
Take this and Reveal it to thy people
Let them Rejoice in the Coming Age of
Thou art worthy of the very Sun!”
From the throne of the gods, we offer thee,
Lofty steps into Heavens,
Where thy priests observe the Stars,
Know thy hearts are already there.
This is an old poem I wrote, coincidentally before reading WIT’s comments on Aztec spirituality. Interesting how imagination and myth coincide, often enough unintentionally. You might consider this the story of a past incarnation of Quetzalcoatl, or a potential “future” one, had the Aztec civilization continued.