Yucatan, obscured by clouds,
Depicts a people’s roam.
Temples to the sky erupt,
Then jungle swallows stone.
Kings and priests of jaguar skin
Crave monumental grounds
Built by backs of glistening bones
While quetzal birdsong sounds
But all the strength and all the jade
Won’t save them from the cold
Of unseen foes, which white sails bade
That thirsts for host, not gold.
Empires crushed by fever while
Survivors left to roam;
Temples static, grand no longer:
Strangers swallow stone.
by Karim Quesada