They walked for days in the blistering heat; their feet rubbed raw from the ragged stones. Following ancient roads they wound onwards, searching desperately. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and years turned to generations. Parched nomads they became, hunting for a miracle.
Soon, they all but forgot their beginning. They knew only of the end, only of their goal.
Two hundred years after the first traveller set foot in the dry, winding passages they found it. First a trickle, then a flood.
Water.
About the Creator
Ash Taylor
Lover of fantasy and all things whimsical. Currently studying Writing and Publishing at UNE in Armidale, Australia. Living on Anaiwan land.
he/him
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli7 days ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Wow! This feels like the beginning of an ancient tale. Beautiful ❤️