altar

a stance with my legs soiled in the mud,
I stepped forth and raised my hand for
the assignment.
charge me into battle, I thought,
because I am ready.

they came around, sneaking behind my back.
they had some sort of armour
and I wasn’t sure whether the outfit would really fit.
it’s not my place to be one to criticize,
yeah right,
but are you sure this is what I need for protection?
I thought.

beneath the wrinkles on their faces,
those experienced ones,
lay this delectable knowledge.
I wanted to digest it, as rapidly as
I normally fail to savour.

fearless, then,
we were marching,
souped up with all the latest
ammunition and protection for the unknown.

that time spent in the jungle
eons ago in another form
likely gave me some innate abilities,
I thought.
the rain, mud, sleet, stench, sweat, blood, tears,
they were merely reflected off
a newly impermeable shell.

I looked the part,
I really did.
they even thought so,
I could read it in their pupils and their
charged stamina that carried me
out of where I thought I was before.

and then we were here.
and facing up at that temple,
lost in the glorious magnitude of
what it meant to be here,
I fell to my knees and worshipped
at this altar of the experience.