At the third world's first sun, the Anasazi climbed through a narrow Sipapu and pressed footprints in the dust of a new unspoiled universe.
In secluded canyon hollows watered by softly chanting springs, they piled rocks upon stones shaping vast adobe cities mortared with pastes of moistened clay.
At Mesa Verde - Chaco - de Chelly fields of maize sway, brushed by the canyon winds while Pueblos danced in the plazas below to the throbbing beats of skin-stretched hollow log drums.
Today their childrenβs children circle fire pits in sacred Kivas raising chants and prayers to their hallowed ancestors.
Wearied by famine and conquest, Pueblo eyes scan the heavens searching for a new Sipapu to lead them to a better world still.