I sit, now atop the great Pyramid at UXMAL.

It is 4 p.m., the sun is high.

I view the rest of the ruins in its most grand splendor.

The limestone rock ablaze.

I sit in contemplation at the Magician’s Pyramid.

Wondering what knowledge was gained

What galaxies were explored while the priests

Were under the spell of "La Comida de Los Muertos".

The clouds are growing thicker and darker

Bringing the holy afternoon rain, much cherished by the Maya.

Bird song.

Iguana shuffle.

Sweat dripping from every pore.

All in remembrance of what is never more.

The clouds growing thicker,

A slight breeze to eazzzzzze,

Feels like the last step

Of an eight hour climb.

I know where the Gods live now.

They smile down upon me from the clouds above.

Casually moving over the land.

Rumble of thunder

The spirits become unruly,

Sifting out of the NE

The rain begins,

The Magician’s Pyramid becomes illuminated in a shaft of light

Sent straight from the heavens.

Becoming a gateway to a lost world.

My mind drifts into its depths

Filling my soul with joy.

The rain stops

The sparrows come out to play

In the hundreds.

A stadium like rectangle of living quarters

Doors all face each other.

Inhabited only by sparrows and bats now.

Bats.

The occupants of Uxmal in the night air.

Dazzling those with a watchful eye.

Flying within inches of tourists’ heads

During the nightly, light show spectacular.

The rainy season

The sky belches with unrest

Bringing essential rain to the land.

The bats dance to the rhythm of the show

Precisely darting his way and that.