God Spoke as Our Version

We were the children of shepherds
And farmers playing in ruins
Left by a civilization
None of our ancestors had known.

We had our own explanations
For the meanings of fallen walls,
For the images of the God
That kept cropping up in our fields.

Did we understand what they meant
To their original makers?
Of course not, but we thought we did,
That our myths were true and ancient.

And if we had no memories
Genuinely ancient, of our own,
What of it? We knew the giants
And angels named in our scriptures.