From Mapus Mundi: My Search for the Ultimate Territory

From Mapus Mundi: My Search for the Ultimate Territory: by E.H. Kranklehunt

Speculation set my mind adrift, in the crimson gloaming, the triumvirate of planets beamed and danced; the sparking light. Its then that the ghostly images of the brush and bramble covered hills takes up the imagination leading consciousness down before unheard of paths, a mixing of senses occurs dislocating one from the reality of this world complete and total, suffering (that may be the wrong word because it is not without its pleasures) this dislocation brings with it new feelings, thoughts, and associations. Landscapes speak light reflected. Sounds distant are brought intimate and close, vibrant, reverberating, former thoughts, former self is brought away far distances only remaining an echo on the hills. The taste of words, the color of sound, and the feel of images all conspired to show me a new reality. I was not sober when I started my journey and though I have not touched my sweet drink in what seems months I am not sober at the end of my journey. All my old remembrances shouted back at me through a prism of dark crimson light like a ruby shattered and swirled to all corners of the sky.

The motes in my vision turned curling serpentines pointing me in the correct direction; the map was no use any longer, I couldn't translate my own symbols or signs, the markings became indecipherable and distant. Dragonflies hovered around me. Bush flies and moths, delicate and papery butterflies beat carefully landing on jungle vines, buzzing insects, mosquitoes, flying ants, bees, hornets and all the stinging flying pests, crickets squelched and cicadas sang, fireflies like beacons betrayed a path toward a  structure tangled and forgotten, strangled by the green revenge of the jungle.

Wispy but opaque fog chewed the tops of the pyramids. The complex was shut in by the foam like clouds but even they were encircled by the green spiked palms and dense ropy jungle. There was no escape, the landscape was just playing out what was the true destiny- our true destiny. The world leads you to these corridors and locked rooms; the birth place of tragedy and the end of desire, it’s the death urge and the life urge it’s the culmination of the hero’s quest to arrive at this time and place at least once in your life ever so short ever so fragile.

 The shaman provided me with the True Map to the ruined pyramid in the middle of the complex for not only was the top shrouded in the queer jungle fog that seemed to sway with the jungle itself, but a titanic gash laid its eastern side open and left the sandstone blocks destroyed and tumbled down and in disarray. High up on that ruined side was a crevice that bore entrance into the inner sanctum of the temple complex itself.  I started to crawl up the broken stone seeking the entrance that was about half way up of what I could see of the pyramid, the shaman stood stone like. “Aren't you coming?” I yelled down to him, he stood there solemn.  I took this for some more native superstition and continued to crawl; hand and foot, up the mortared brick. Finally I came to a break in the wall that permitting me to squeeze my body inside.