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.
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.
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.