The Feathered Serpent and Beloved Cities

Living south and living north
No one knew the flying feather,
Or watched for his ghastly shape
Tho’ among he quietly slithered


Holding life as crystal clear
As the pendant in the sky
No blood for him was e’er spilt
Instead was loath to be observed


With a long and silent crash
Teotihuacan lies today
And left a serpent all alone
To an abandoned, desolate throne


In so bereft of life and love
He mourned the death of all below
And left the city like a dove
Into the time that we now know


Quetzalcoatl has not been gone
And if you look (but not for long)
You may still see his modern form
In doves and birds that roam the cities
In search of someone to adore.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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