Deep in the Central Coast of
Peru, we were found laced in
musky white, buried far down,
underground, my body is
still preserved, for the dry
air keeps me in sync, but, then
why was I kept safe? When my
home, my hearth, my people
have disappeared and been
put to sleep? My monarchy
has crumbled; As I
was laid under this dirt,
Wrapped so precisely,
As if I would awake this
Time again… One day, one day
The Chancay Culture… will roam
again, in the great, strong
civilization of Old
Peru, as I lay here,
My musky white, sparkling in
the sunlight, as I become
found, alive, found, alive, found…