Demolished Heritage

Who am I?
I know not.
Who made me?
I do not recollect.
But I do remember,
feeling the gentle breeze
on my four faces
for the very first time.
I do still hear,
the rhythm of the drumbeats
at the annual festivals
celebrated all around me.
I shudder wondering about,
the need of the sacrifices
I had to witness,
being made to please me
or so they said.

Over so many seasons,
across so many oceans.
I have seen people fighting,
people dying and killing,
for what I could not know.
The mother's chest
has enough for all,
Then why do you rise?
Then why do you fall?
Four thousand and more
years went by,
and yet am ignorant
of the reason,
the driving force,
the answers to the questions,
where the questions themselves
come from.

But today I see,
nothing can fathom thee,
nothing can make you see,
the futility of your ways,
the mistakes you make.
I embrace close all my memoirs
taking them to my stony grave.
As you turn your monsters on me
both inners and outers,
and one by one I feel
my bricks falling to pieces
slipping out from under me.
Vile creatures,
don't you feel that what I do?
That the hand that rises
burns down something
not in its power
to save, to recreate.
Hope it realizes that
before its too late...