The Book of Souls

The nobility, the priesthood, The common, the slaves A life's journey fixed, Elected for life or Passed from father to son. Omens, divinations, Predictions, reading future They were skilled mathematicians, Historians, keepers of knowledge Recorded details in codices. Books of fig bark paper Mayans wrote, kept count Of Sun's path, tracked Venus With surprising Accuracy, Marked zenith twined with beliefs Hard workers ate well, Worshiped their many gods In willing exuberance Artisans, carvers, Traded true, cities grew Peaceful obsidian warriors Extravagant kings and queens Fell to their own intelligence Wrath of gods unfurled red-carpet For death and destruction Nothing to eat, nothing to carve, Nothing to record, nothing to trade, Nothing to fight, none left to please god Nothing to sacrifice, simply collapsed. They weren't spared, would we be?