We were taken to the Philadelphia
Museum of Art up the long staircase
Just like Aztecs or Egyptians
Priest and sacrifice to gaze out
Over the gleaming autumnal city
For a few moments
And then we were led inside
Down to the lower vaults
Through long narrow hallways
Where the past is stored
Memory is so distant
To the drawer where the tablet
Telling of the meeting of Gilgamesh
And Enkidu was kept
And taken out and placed
Before us yes we almost wept
To see the actual words
Some able hand transcribed
In wet clay mindful of us
And that his story not be
Entirely forgotten
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