In the great market of the City of Bronze
Many sell artifacts unearthed nearby
Or even elsewhere, down to the Dead River
One of them sold statues, cold-hewn stone
Gods and goddesses long since fallen
Long since forgotten, long since dead
I was amazed to see my very own face
Adorning one of the stones, crowned
Worn with a thousand years of sun
Still encrusted with salt crystals
From the lowest, saltiest reaches
Of the Dead River, the City of Aaiun
Why, I asked, does this ancient statue
Bear my face upon it, despite its age?
The old vendor laughed and worried it
Weathered hands caressing worn stone
I understand, he said, your confusion
I once found my own face in Aaiun stone
Where to I was worshiped as a god
Alongside yourself, together divine

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