. . .

And if you wonder why the world lives yet, what with the little wooden boy and all;

And the end of the year 2012, and the end of the age of Hans;

And the strangelets, the seraphs, and the nuclear bombs —

Well, the world is a dirty, wicked thing, and it strives always to cave in: to close in on itself, about itself, like a crumpled map, and ruin its every bright and perfect thing. It would gladly devour its bright hopes, its dreams, its wonders — us — and leave nothing behind to make more;

But because there are magical jaguars, catapulted skyward by Mayan sages, in a decaying orbit around the Earth, life is certain to continue. Because there are magical jaguars, something is certain to remain; and something will always be reborn.

That is the Mayans’ gift.

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