Ascent

A poem about ascending the Temple Of Kukulkan.

I traveled once to Chichen Itza.
Lying in stately ruin among the low jungle
Sprawled pyramids and courtyards,
Paths to nowhere.

The morning sun gave way to midday rain
And the midday rain gave way to quiet
And the jungle spread out in green leagues,
Out past the horizon to the Gulf.

What genius and labor built this place,
And yet, existence is scant evidence.
Chichen Itza hides in intangible reality,
Though true to hands that feel and eyes that see.

I climbed the pyramid,
Laying my hands upon its stone, hewn
From feathered serpents
and lost corpulence.

As I ascended to the clouds, I
Entered a void where Earth shimmered below,
And I was no longer in the jungle.
But lost to my senses in the realm of the few.