These are a couple of hyms the Mesoamerican people, regarding the Toltecatl pyramids they left behind, the arts:
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The true artist, capable, practicing, skillful,
maintains dialogue with his heart, meets things with his mind,
The true artist draws out all from his heart.
The good painter is wise,
God is in his heart.
He puts divinity into things;
he converses with his own heart.
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Who am I?
I live flying.
I compose hymns,
I sing the flowers;
butterflies of song.
They leap forth from within me,
my heart relishes them.
I have arrived among the people,
I have come down,
I, the bird of spring....
My song arises over the earth,
my song bursts out.
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