lady of bulls
from the the memory's of the first people
who shaped your breast from clay
in the Vally of jaguars
where maidens looked in polished obsidian mirrors
while adorning themselves in copper and gold
incense ceder and shells from a distant sea carved delicate beads
family's watched sunsets on fields of rippled grain
in a paradise before the dawn of war for the city had no walls

houses where entered through the roof,over the kitchen and down the chimney as it were,loved ones were buried beneath the floor,men on the left and women to the right,wight washed mud bricks carried pictures of dreams from another age,painted skillfully by hand of love
moving bright red ocher
great ancestors of my spirit
shall are hands not move of unison
as we look at the canvas and dream a goddesses face
for time is only dust between us
and souls are always born true