The Mayans

Aatucagg sleeps, the Earth dreams, and the universe snores. The Yucatan peninsula washes away the killer of eons. There stood a mountain there once. There stood a man upon the mountain there once, and at its base kneeled the multitudes. This was nowhere and all roads led to it. Here they could hear great words from a mediocre mind. They could climb to great heights with battered bodies and substitute physical pain for mental glory. They were small, but on the mountain it made them tall. They were somebody up there as they searched for something greater than themselves. Sixty five million years ago man was stroking his ego just as man does today. Nothing has changed, but the mountain has gone away, buried beneath a kilometer of sediments. The Ring of Golight and Silvity saw it all. It allowed it to happen. It could have protected the Earth, but it had moved away and allowed the asteroid to strike. It destroyed the mountain and the man on top and scattered the people to the fractured continents. Oh poor Earth, you are pummeled by the hand that fed you. Scattered and abandoned, your days are numbered. Your highest heights now lie beneath the waters of the world. Your leader's words are drowned in muck and sand. You are ignorant and oblivious to your impending doom. Like the Mayans before you and their temple of Kukulkan, you are shadow wainting for darkness to disappear into the night of forgotten history.