PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I slowly awoke as if from a dream.  Feeling the terrible effects of altitude sickness.  Alone under a vast South American sky.  Serpentine clouds slithered past as condors glided through curling mists like ancient dragons.  Silence and solitude encased my being.  Here, the immense mountains and canyons were the living breathing gods!  The verticalness was sacred, revered!  Apus, how the apus whispered!  I lay in a grassy field along a winding rock road.  I traced the grass stems upward, admiring such emerald radiance.  The enormity of the rocks and stones hit me.  I sensed age and wisdom.  Far off, villages nestled deep down in the Peruvian valleys echoed with footsteps and llamas.  My North American feathers suddenly trimmed, I could only admire the flight of the condor above me, dreaming I was an eagle seeking communion.  The golden sun penetrated fabric, left the air dry and arid.  Ages came and went, but meant nothing in this vacuum. Time unraveled in the endlessness of the afternoon shadows.  Deep down in the canyon, I sensed the heart of the earth beating, pulsating, syncing with mine.  The unforgiving sun shined down on me as daylight drifted in a restless circle.  Patterns emerged in the prisms that draped the skies.  Insects sang out in a divine chorus.  Wild flowers rustled in the amorphous breeze.  I dreamed of Inti and Pachamama.  The faint afterimage of ancient festivals burnt into archaic memory.  I suddenly remember the rituals, the forgotten dances and aureoles.  Thoughts/concentration broken by the arrival of a yellow bus and the slow terrible journey home. Colca Canyon now a faded memory of distorted colors, sounds, and visions.  Slipping down into a blessed sort of amnesia and the merging of eagle and condor.