Anunnamu: beyond the traditional narrative

The Turquoise Disk, the Maltese Cross, and the Cosmic Geometry Behind My Research

I first discovered the turquoise mosaic disk while researching ancient serpent cosmology online. It wasn’t part of a planned search — it appeared unexpectedly, and the moment I saw it, I felt an immediate pull. The disk wasn’t just beautiful; it carried a shape I recognized instantly: the Maltese cross.

That recognition mattered.

The Maltese cross is not only a Mediterranean symbol — it appears in the Aegean Sea, embedded in the maritime and sacred traditions of the region. Seeing the same geometry appear in a Maya turquoise disk from Chichén Itzá was a shock. Two civilizations separated by oceans and thousands of years, yet expressing the same cross with the same precision.

This wasn’t a coincidence. It was a pattern.

The cross on the disk aligns perfectly with the four cosmic directions:

• East–West → Equinox axis

• North–South → Solstice axis

This is the same astronomical geometry used to align pyramids across the world — including the Maya pyramids at Chichén Itzá and the great pyramids of the Mediterranean world. The Maltese cross is not just a symbol; it is a celestial diagram, a map of how ancient cultures tracked the movement of the sun, the seasons, and the great cycles of time.

The turquoise disk embodies that same cosmic logic.

Its placement inside the Chac Mool throne seat at Chichén Itzá shows that it wasn’t merely decorative — it was a sovereignty object, a symbol of rulership tied directly to the sky, the serpent, and the cosmic order. Turquoise represented the heavens. Mosaic represented the geometry of creation. The cross represented the cycle.

Sky. Geometry. Cycle. Three worlds woven into one artifact.

When I saw the disk online, I recognized the same pattern I had been tracing across continents — the same pattern that appears in the Aac–Coh Cycle, the same pattern encoded in pyramids, temples, and mythic stories from the Maya to the Mediterranean.

The turquoise mosaic disk didn’t just catch my attention. It confirmed the direction of my research.

It showed that the ancient world was speaking a unified language — a language of cosmic geometry, serpent symbolism, and sky‑aligned architecture — and that these symbols are fragments of a single global story.

A story humanity is finally beginning to remember.

My hope is that this work encourages you to look more closely at the foundations of ancient knowledge and the stories that have shaped our understanding of history. I want readers to recognize that these early narratives may contain deeper structures and patterns—ones that were preserved across cultures rather than created in isolation. More than anything, I hope this book inspires curiosity. Not necessarily to accept every conclusion, but to question, explore, and examine the connections for yourself. If this work leads you to see familiar histories in a new light, and to consider possibilities that reach beyond conventional explanations, then it has fulfilled its purpose.