Sacred Verses (30): We Are All Shadows / Traveling Through the Open Doors

We Are All Shadows

Earth, you are the residence of my bones,
the keep of my flesh with me from the beginning,
the house my ancient father made for me;
I will never be separated from you,
as your mountains will never be separated from your horizons;
they will endure on your loins as the sycamore endures,
rearing the green essence of field and meadow,
orchard and vineyard, cavern and grove.
You have passed to me these secret things from your seed,
and I carry them with me as the swallows carry the sun.

Sky, you are the residence of my spirit,
the keep of my shade with me from the beginning,
the house my ancient mother made for me;
I will never be separated from you,
as your stars will never be separated from your vault;
they will remain imperishable as your directions are imperishable,
holding aloft the gleam of Mooring Post and Bull’s Foreleg,
She-Hippopotamus and Crocodile, Lion and Myriad.
You have passed to me these constant things from your breast,
and I carry them with me as the winds carry the clouds.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the earth,
who gives us his seed of the ages stretching back to our beginning;
where we come from the gap of darkness and into the day;
where the thighs of our mother stretch forth to give us the world;
where the world is held up by the ocean encircled by void;
where the void is the source of the many from which the world is woven;
where darkness is the warp and light the weft of the primordial gods;
where the Gods comprise earth and sky, below and above, seed and womb;
where are hidden the children of the earth in the tears of daylight;
where the west swallows the stars that are born again from her body;
where the east spreads wide for the mirror of the swelling sun;
where are completed all the Mysteries that go forth as creation’s shadows.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the sky,
who gives us her breast of the eternal courses traversed by the sun;
traversed by the Unwearying Stars who rise and set by me;
traversed by the ark of daybreak which sails with me;
traversed by the ark of twilight which moors with me;
traversed by the souls of the north which provide breath for me;
traversed by the souls of the south which provide water for me;
traversed by the hawk of the east who shines gold on me;
traversed by the stork of the west who gives flight to me;
traversed by the Sun-God whose right eye opens for me;
traversed by the Moon-God whose left eye opens for me;
traversed by all the Secrets that go forth as life’s shadows.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of flesh and bone;
I take the pathway of doors my corpse provides,
steering me with the hand of my senses into the field beyond.
Life is my father, the deeds of my skin,
and death is my mother, whose clothing of the dusk conceals the virgin dawn.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the eyes;
I take the road of doors my mirrors provide,
gazing through my corpse and predicting the spirit following the flesh.
Daylight is the map my living feet tread,
and nightfall is the guide of my starry stride.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the ears;
I take the counsel of doors my music provides,
singing from the sparrows who hear the sun’s summons.
Earthly voices are the direction of my bones,
while the words of the sky provide wings for my soul.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the nose;
I inhale the incense of doors the earth provides,
swelling my worldly lungs with the savor of the immortal Gods.
Sweat is the scent of my corpse of the earth,
while breath is the flavor of my spirit of air going forth.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the mountains;
I ascend the soil of doors the beginning provides,
bursting up through the ocean of my mother as the mound.
My base is the road taken by the sun when he declines,
while my apex is the golden throne his ascension mounts.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the winds;
I sail the watercourse of doors sky’s breath provides,
moving in and moving out from the reach of the horizons.
My coming from the north revivifies the eternal sky,
while my coming from the south renews the enduring earth.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the rivers;
I quicken the flood of doors the netherworld provides,
overflowing every channel where my name spreads like water.
My water of the fields is the green of precious turquoise,
while my water in the sky is the starry veil of lapis lazuli.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the east;
I take to my breast the lotus of doors daybreak provides,
striking my heart with the fiery crest of a heron.
His call is my name rising from the pyramidion of the sun,
and his alighting is my soul’s forthcoming to the region of eternity.

We are all shadows
traveling through the open doors of the west;
I enter the mouth of doors twilight provides,
reuniting with my mother who acclaims her star-born child.
Her darkness is the secret cavern where my corpse is renewed,
while her light is the celestial door thrown open for my soul.

I am a shadow, like all the shadows
traveling through the open doors of the worlds;
we enter the lifetimes of doors eternity provides,
going forth by dawn and coming in by dusk.
Our life is the earth our corpse mirrors in daylight,
while death is the sky our soul ascends when night is opened.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

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Sacred Verses (29): In the Field of Offerings / the Gods Have Reared Upon Their Words

Field of Offerings.jpg

Clothed in white, my spirit sails the new horizon
where memory has never been forgotten,
in the place where the face of the northern sky blushes with stars;
theirs are remembrances of the first words ever spoken,
heard now with my ears upon the gusts that celebrate the sunrise.
“You remember where you sailed from”, they whisper behind my damp ears,
“from that lofty sycamore of memory which stretched the womb of the sky;
she yawned for you with her mouth in the evening,
and took you in with her flood to ride the waters where the sun descends.
The sun is your companion, like memory, which rises and falls
throughout the ages; but the knowledge he imparts is the eternal becoming,
which governs all things the Gods have reared upon their words.

“Gods are this forthcoming with the sun,
imbibing his memories as beams of light,
then rearing them as language in the turquoise boughs of the sycamore.
Her branches are the ages and her leaves every name ever spoken;
yours are reckoned with their malachite and green of jasper,
their turquoise of the sky whose constellations spell out your knowledge.
You have heard this knowledge where you sailed from,
the thighs of your Mother in the east, which bestowed you your beginning.
Listen to your mother who resides in the east,
for hers are the lips that know the memories of the sun
in his millions of circuits through her womb;
she who has counted them and knows their vast enchantments.
How many circuits and how many cycles has your spirit reckoned?
Look to the stars traversing their river in the sky,
in whose sacred depths the words of memory remain forever”.

I take my oar in hand across the waters;
their azure fills my eyes with the sky, my heart with the depths.
Gazing up to meet my Mother with fresh eyes and wet ears,
I inhale the savor of this Field of Reeds in which spirits paddle
the boats of yesterday and tomorrow.
Yesterday I was a sapling of that ancient sycamore,
with no more leaves than days stretching back behind me.
I did not know history or regret, nor the ages of my life
guided by the sun’s countless risings and settings;
these the courses of nature which remained a mystery
to my untested countenance.

Mother, take me to your holy shore from my boat of offerings;
let me offer what I bring to the sky who bore me,
feeding me her breast from which my names of many ages fell;
let me offer my feet to the earth who carried me,
giving me his roads and his fields of verdant memory;
let me offer my legs to the mountains who stood for me,
enduring my deeds as I traversed my name of history;
let me offer my knees to the trees who bent for me,
showing my body the ladder ascended by spirits;
let me offer my loins to the fields who gave me their seed,
sprouting for me the numberless beginnings of which we are made;
let me offer my manhood to the vault’s unwearying stars,
ascending for me as a map of my becoming in the twilight sky;
let me offer my navel to the sacred river who brought me,
quenching my ignorance with the flood of our ancient memory;
let me offer my breast to the south who nourished me,
bringing me the waters beneath which my memory was renewed;
let me offer my throat to the north who breathed me,
exhaling the divine language through which I live again;
let me offer my mouth to the west who took in my corpse,
weaving for me a pristine form from the net of indestructible stars;
let me offer my eyes to the east who beholds the reborn sun,
seeing my spirit come forth by dawn as a swallow of bright light;
let me offer my nostrils to the wind who brought me forward,
urging my bones to know their own strength against the tide;
let me offer my ears to the swallows who carry the voice of the Gods,
reminding my heart who truly gave its beating and its breath;
let me offer my brow to the peaks which pierce the veil of heaven,
bestowing my two eyes sight of the doors through which spirits fly;
let me offer the vessel of my heart to the Gods who comprise creation,
holding all the worlds in their tongues of sacred memory.

Mother, lead me to the waters of the sky where the stars never rest;
may they receive with their radiant hands my offerings,
my bones and my flesh clad in a pure mantle of light.
See my open palms raised to the starry vault above my brow,
and shine with your voice the knowledge of the open sky where I sail.
For I am your secret son born from the gap in the eastern sky,
and what I know is what throws wide open the doors of the portal of light.
I have seen by the renewed flame of the sun that heron of flashing plume,
whose crest has become my crest on the golden thighs of dawn;
his language is my language which bespeaks the Gods,
numberless as the unceasing stars in the midnight sky.
She is my sky and my Mother,
lifting me up by her flood to the place of my new beginning.

I take my oar in hand to the horizon where spirits rise as herons;
they alight for my outstretched arms on their Mound of our beginning.
Remove the earth from my well-traveled feet and give me my birth,
from this Mound where the flood retreated from the sun;
I come clothed in white to drink the ancient waters.
This is the treading-place of spirits on their celestial wings,
where I too have traveled in a boat sped by the arms of Mother Sky.
She yawned for me with her mouth in the morning,
opening her horizon to send me forth where the sun ascends.
The sun is my companion, like memory, which enters and departs
throughout my ages; but the knowledge he imparts is my eternal becoming,
which governs all my forms the Gods have reared upon their words.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

The Gods Sail With Me / Where Sky Becomes My Mother

Where Sky Becomes My Mother

I have remembered those waters of my first beginning,
sheltering the banks on either side where I travel;
before my mother, before my father, before my earth and sky,
this deluge from which the holy mound rose on the first day.
Darkness, shade, and the snares of nightfall cannot know me,
nor can my scent reach their ravenous nostrils;
they who know time, flesh, and the bones of living men,
who seek the company of earthbound spirits to bring them down.
But the Gods sail with me when I take to the celestial waterway,
their luminescence reaching out with hallowed arms before me;
no shade can stride farther than their reach of electrum brilliance.

I am in the entourage of that dazzling heron of the first dawn,
whose plumage bespeaks the light rays of the sun,
his bill of pure gold fresh with the perfume of the lotus.
His enchantments sail with me and upon my strong arms;
like those of a god of the First Occasion, whose voice recalls the sacred flood,
my words of power pierce the cloud banks and are heard by all spirits.
Great Heron is my name when I sail the nether waterways,
when my silver-white crest is read from a distance of millions of strides;
and the spirits say of me:

“Behold!  There is one who comes among us with the torch of a god;
his savor is essence of lotus, and his plume is the crest of the sacred heron.
His beaming face is the disk of the Sun-God,
whose electrum mirror knows the uppermost sky.
See how the shades and twilight spirits flee before his feet of sharp malachite,
which have traversed the hallows where Ra the great Ram-Soul is reborn.
Smell his essence of myrrh which goes before him,
predicting his rising from the corpse of the silent earth;
but silence does not become him,
and his tongue rends the sky with divine language.
The Gods sail with him when he takes to the celestial waterway”.

My words are the memory of that First Occasion which came before men,
rippling out across the opaque waters of our beginning.
Having heard the swallows in their primordial sky,
I repeated to my heart what the Sun-God spoke when he first opened his eyes:
I summon the body of the sky from the nether waters;
the sky is my mother who shall give me birth from her body of fine gold.
I summon my light-body from her belly to burn as one of the Imperishable Stars;
she is my mantle, and I am the flame that burns for her by day.
I summon my bones as a ladder reaching up to the arms of my starry mother;
she stretches out her arms of gold for me and takes me to her breast.
I summon my hair of lapis lazuli to glint upon her shoulders by night;
she takes my shining locks to her brow as sovereign of the upper regions.
I summon the silver crescent of twilight to embrace her holy thigh;
my mother of the sky receives her eventide mantle as light of horizons.
I summon the golden net of nightfall in which flicker the souls of stars;
her breasts and thighs glisten in her veil upon which the Gods reign.
I summon my two eyes from the cover of the shady waters;
she hallows my right eye as daylight and my left eye as evening’s guide.
I summon my nostrils as the essence of that first lotus upon the flood;
she takes my breath as her voice by which the repeating dawn is heralded.
I summon my two lips in darkness and open my mouth to the waters;
she opens her dappled thighs and fills the void with her waters of the nether sky.
I summon my two ears by the east and west-facing mountains;
she breaks open her horizons at the thundering voice of my light-body.
I summon the day and the night as the two horizons of my travels;
she swallows me at dusk to give me birth on the first morning of the sky.

These are the enchantments I heard from the swallows
when the first morning clothed the naked sky with his ruddy mantle;
my eyes peering out over the celestial waterway to receive its turquoise glare,
I beheld the mound of the earth ascending from the pristine flood.
Who held back the torrent for my ship to pass when the waters surged?
The Gods sailed with me in their breath of magical power,
coming forth by daylight as the language of the Sun-God’s names;
they hold his forms and his tongues in secret,
known only to the swallows who ascend with his unceasing rays.

Great and elder sun I call out your names
when water travels fast over the banks of my earth,
when come the floods of shadow that rend boats from their moorings.
I have remembered your language from which the Unwearying Stars rose;
their lights are my lights, and their rising is my rising in the florid sky.
O banks of the earth who hold corpses fast in their trappings,
you cannot hold me in your time or your decay,
for the Gods sail with me when I go forth by day into the nether waters;
they take me round the great mooring post in heaven,
where the indestructible stars shine with the fire of my names.

Darkness, shade, and shadows cannot find me where I glimmer,
nor the snares of water catch my lotus essence where it glides.
They who know only shade will never see me as I pass,
for the light I bear turns eyes away that cannot know their beginning.
The Gods sail with me when I take to the celestial waterway,
when these eyes of mine take to the horizons where sky becomes my mother.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Seize the Sky/ Mirrors of Hwt-Her

Mirrors of Hwt-Her

Hwt-Her of lofty form, standing firm in your field of turquoise,
striding heavenly circuits with horns of gold blazing,
your lapis veil the dancing ground of indestructible stars;
you are the mansion suspended above the brow of the earth,
whose hawk of enduring metal seeks the shelter of your thighs.
Taking his young body to your breast of heavenly milk,
your enchantments of the dawn grant him wings of stellar dominion.
Seize his wings, your wings, and bring them down for me, for me!

Come down O Goddess, bending low to the home of earthbound souls,
swinging your lights on the horizon before us, opening your two eyes;
these the dwellings of your whirling spirits, dancing as seven ladies in your train.
We see the horizons overtaken with riotous color of your two bodies,
one brightening the day with electrum, and the other clothing the night in alabaster; mirrors of the sky in whose depths the lights mingle.
Seize the sky, your sky, and pull it down for me, for me!

Swimming in your sky-waters, dappled with lapis lazuli,
carrying the Unwearying Stars in your belly,
your torches of gold going before you in the Nether Sky;
yours is the body of sublime form holding fast the gaze of the earth,
who beholds your thighs of fine and burnished gold welcoming the sun.
You praise him with your lips above, and with those below you hold him;
his emergence as that lotus of light-rays renews the world from your cavern .
Seize the sun, your sun, and send him out for me, for me!

Come down O Goddess, with mirrors foretelling your eyes;
let the east be your right eye and the west your left,
and my eyes behold you opening, opening.
May heaven open and the earth open;
your mirrors are dawn and twilight where spirits rise.
May the north open and the south open;
your mirrors are breath of sky and the flood becoming.
May the east open and the west open;
your mirrors are the birth and swallowing of the Sun-God.
May the lotus in his dark abyss open;
your mirrors are the going forth and withdrawal of the beginning.
May the secret Mound in his waters open;
your mirrors are the birth pangs and devouring of the earth.
May the Sacred Eye in its green wholeness open;
your mirrors are the division and reconciliation of powers.
May the Eye of the Sun open and the Eye of the Moon open;
your mirrors are the Day-Ark and the Night-Ark forthcoming.
May the Bakhu-Mountain open and the Manu-Mountain open;
your mirrors are the cleft of east and gap of the west receiving.
May the eastern and western portals open;
your mirrors are the stations of rebirth and eternity unceasing.
Come down O Goddess, with your mirrors predicting day after night;
let their spirits follow after you as your body of heaven opens,
and my earthly body opening, opening!

See now my legs striding the circuits of the stars by you;
you, the sky-mansion of unbroken light, between whose thighs the sun soars.
My body becomes your stars by you, seized by your hand and lifted up.
My eyes become your zenith by you, seized by your brow and lifted up.
My nose becomes your lotus by you, seized by your breath and lifted up.
My lips become your command by you, seized by your tongue and lifted up.
My tongue becomes your authority by you, seized by your heart and lifted up.
My heart becomes your enchantment by you, seized by your magic and lifted up.
My seed becomes your magic by you, seized by your womb and lifted up.
My thighs become your two horizons by you, seized by your eyes and lifted up.
My breast becomes your falcon of gold by you, seized by your thighs and lifted up.

Hear now my voice of turquoise shooting from your field;
you, the Mistress of Turquoise upon whose breasts the stars grow.
Take up my spirit-body to your starry breast and set him there;
establish his wings as those of a hawk of gold to glimmer forever.
You shine, and I see my reflection in your mirrors of the horizons.
You open your lips of the west, and I descend beneath your belly.
You dance in the mantle of the Unwearying Stars, and I rise up as one of them.
You throw back the doors of the nether portals,
and I go forth to the Mooring Post of the sky.
You place the diadem of the vault upon your apex,
and I become one of those Imperishable Stars enduring.
You open the lotus of the sun before your full face,
and I become the countenance of light filling your two eyes.
You shake your fecund thighs between the eastern sycamores,
and I become the Sun-Calf reborn from your turquoise sky.
You rule the nether region where earthbound spirits travel,
and I become a soul in flight encircled by your arms.
I become a portion of that ascended veil dazzling on your fresh horizon;
and you seize the sky to bring it down for me, for me.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (27): The Gods Drink Their Image

The Gods Drink Their Image

I go in carrying my corpse in my hands;
all that I have from my Mother of my many lives,
their fears and transgressions pecking like crows;
these my entourage from my many lives,
their black cloaks haunting my shade for all its deeds.
We carry with us the corpses of all our accomplishments,
and like sparrows they gossip our names to the sky.
Sky, hungry sky, swallowing my sun into the hallowed west;
you swallow my mortal flesh whole, and with it my deeds;
for the sky is our beginning and our end,
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

I go in carrying my fear on my naked bones;
does he know his name, his scent, his flavor;
all that he has from his Father of his many forms.
Once I was green and gold like a field of corn,
my lighthearted soul fluttering above me as the azure sky.
I knew laughing and drinking and lovemaking,
the gleaming mirror of the sun throbbing from my loins.
I knew the names of my light-spirits, swallows on the wind,
tittering with the sky in the language of the fresh earth;
their speech the ancient tongue of an earth and sky united.
I knew these words and this language in my heart,
which received the knowledge of memory from the swallows;
and they received it from the Sun-God,
whose lotus breath knows our beginning and our end;
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

Where are my swallows now, who saw with their carnelian eyes
the rising of my sun on the fresh horizon of the east;
when I was still young, flawless, and green as the earth was green;
when I stood with my bare ankles in the flood,
my hands sifting the droplets of their beginning;
when my brow wore the diadem of the sun’s rosy light,
his rays playing over my wet breast and thighs;
when my shade traveled near me and knew innocence
as its companion,
before it played with snares and become entangled in nets;
when my eyes could see the future of their earth,
his Father below and his Mother above;
when the indomitable mountains appeared yielding
to the soft touch of the eyes, their peaks as lips to kiss;
when my mouth knew its first kiss and tasted its first lovemaking,
the flood sliding between my open thighs
to receive the power of the desirous sun;
when my passions knew only their beginning, never their end,
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

My light-spirits began as swallows as all spirits do;
they know from their birth the language of the rising sun.
They alight on the edge of the sky to hear the stars,
to catch their unwearying travels in the words their memory weaves.
This is the language of the swallows kept by the Sun-God,
whose beams traverse the four directions where swallows fly.
Their breasts and rosy faces have been kissed by the sun’s lips,
and their wings by the midnight sky, where their flights have ended.

If we spoke the language of swallows, we would hear how we began;
how the shade of our beginning was fashioned in the deep,
where the coils of serpents choked the first Mound of the earth;
how the Sun-God found his mirror alone in the surging darkness,
peering for the first time at his reflection of burnished gold;
how the loins of our first Father grew a sycamore on the Mound,
its boughs the bearers of his passions stretching from the abyss;
how the turquoise sky was upraised by the sycamore of the first dawn,
her body of gold becoming the Mother of the untiring stars;
how the light-spirits were born as swallows to perch near the elder sun,
their ears hearing his first words ring out into the burden of shadows;
how the bodies of the Gods were fashioned from the ancient elements,
their powers of gold and turquoise springing up from the first Mound;
these powers knowing their beginning, but never their end;
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

This is where we gathered our powers and our forms,
our lives reaching out before us like shoots of green in a void;
where we began as light-spirits untarnished by the shade of mortality.
This is how I began when I was still a child and could hear
the language of swallows carried on the wind.
They gave me the memories of the Gods in their first bodies,
which appeared upon the mirror of waters the beginning held.
Our beginning, our youth, our green souls were reflected with them;
many in number, they opened their wet ears to hear the song of those Gods,
being our gods and our voices, our language and our forms.
How those waters of the void fell from us, leaving our corpses awake;
how I held my swallows in my hands like the beatings of my own heart.
Have I now wings to travel like those hearts on blue-black wings,
to carry words of turquoise that sprout from stagnant shade?
Have I now wings that know their beginning, but never know their end;
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

I have gone in carrying my heart in my hands;
all that I have from my Mother of my many lives,
and all my Father gave me from his loins clothed in shade.
All my transgressions perch on my heart’s shoulders
like those swallows on sky’s edge;
she recalls their exploits as they recall my deeds,
and as the Sun-God knows his language from beginning’s form.
My youth has slumbered within my bones, my greenest hours faded;
I come again into the breast of the sky to shed my earthly skin.

Sky, my fragile youth and my beginning,
the Mother of my light-spirit whose breathing lights the vault;
I drink you in as my lips swallow your starry breast,
your thighs beneath me open to receive the sun of my green loins.
May my image grow within you as a star of undying aura,
born again in the east on your horizon of ascending light;
this light that glitters by day in the company of ancient swallows,
reaching up into the turquoise veil with their lapis wings.

Earth, my heady passions and my forthcoming,
the Father of my flesh and bones whose breathing fills the sky;
I drink your seed in as my lips swallow your inundation,
your skin on my skin bestowing me your savor.
May my flesh and bones be received by your hallows
to charge the cavern of beginnings;
where our Ancestors meet to receive their light-spirits
after travels through the memory of time.
Let me travel with them and hear their memories,
to become a swallow of the sky and air;
these qualities that know their beginning, but never their end;
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

I go in carrying my peace on sun-clad bones;
he knows his names, his youth, his beginning;
all that he has from his Father of his many forms.
He has drunk from his Mother’s sky of many lifetimes,
reckoning his past and his many transgressions.
But fear is unknown to him when he passes over
into the house of the midnight sky;
for he has tasted the waters of our beginning,
where all that once was has received the untarnished flood.
His reflection is the green and gold of the untouched Gods,
these qualities knowing their beginning, never their end;
and the Gods drink their image when it comes back to them.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (26): I Go Forth as a Jabiru

I Go Forth as a Jabiru

This is my going forth predicted by the Sun-God,
he who ascends from the fissure of his mother;
what I have heard chanted by the baboons who greet
the ever-rising countenance of the Sky-Lord;
what my two ears have been opened to hear;
what my mouth, lips, and tongue have repeated;
what the metal of heaven has brought forth
from my earth at twilight;
these powers of the Nether Sky woven by the Imperishable Stars.
I have seen them coming forth by day at my side,
these Gods and spirits clad in the flight of sunbeams.

You Gods who fill the earth and sky,
you spirits whose wings span the two horizons,
and you travelers upon the winds,
I take your direction coming from the north;
rising like a star of unwearying light,
I become a flashing torch in the presence of the east.
The shades of the earth behold my luminous face;
with full and open eyes I bequeath them the gift of sight,
and they who were without sight suddenly behold.

It is a wonder to cross the threshold of Gods,
and this I accomplish in the form of a god.
With dappled plumage and a crest of blazing gold,
my lapis lazuli dazzles their eyes, and my turquoise shines
with beams entwined with the raiment of the sun.
Who calls my name there, opening up the east for my flight?
It is the Unwearying Stars who know my names
and pronounce the savor of a god at my approach;
not with the stride of a man, but with the lofty stroke of a bird.

I go forth by daybreak as a jabiru of effective light,
being diffused across that eastern horizon
where the mirror of the sky reigns over millions.
How far my mantle of pure gold is spread,
the span of my wings encompassing the far-traveling clouds.
Blue of lapis, green of turquoise, and fiery red of jasper;
I lay claim to your brilliant enchantments,
carrying these upon the crest of my wings
where come the distant spirits of the sky.

Who makes flight with me when I open the gates of the north?
It is the circumpolar stars whose faces endure for me,
whose bodies of light appear for the beating of my wings;
they manifest as indestructible gold in my heaven of lapis,
where dwell the Ancestral Souls whose torches burn unceasingly.

Approach, come near and open your eyes for me,
you Imperishables of millions of years;
for I am the son of the sky whose endurance is with him,
before whose starry tread impotence flees and death is rent.
Behold with your wholesome eyes my plumage of white light;
see how it glistens in the waters of the sky,
my feet of carnelian beneath me, and my throat of red jasper upon me.
I have brought with me the mantle of the two horizons;
they are thrown wide open for me at dawn and at eventide,
where their doors of electrum kiss the tips of my unsullied wings.

I have seen the western vault dance beneath my flight;
she has opened her mouth of starlight to proclaim me to hidden doors;
where the river is swallowed whole by the shade of the sky;
where her spirits convene as jabirus in her retinue of stars;
where her gap takes Elder Light within the hallows of the Netherworld;
where the dead come to this place of the hauling for their reckoning of years;
where the bleariness of the Sacred Eye is healed within its Mound;
where come the Star-Gods to revive the corpse of the sun;
where sing the Star-Goddesses to open the course of the eastern land;
where brightens the world from its kernel of darkness;
where are remembered the divine words through which the world is reborn.

For I have seen the time of the flood with my two eyes,
and I have beheld the ascension of the Gods to their Mound;
its earth became the resting place of the sun,
and its apex the going forth of the eternal sky.
With darkness beneath the face of the Mound,
the world of water was divided in its time;
and this was the first beginning of the Gods,
who have possessed creation before dark and light were twined.
Their water is still upon them in the west,
where all souls take flight as jabirus of light-dappled mantles;
and these are my souls, and these my mantles of radiant savor.

This is my going forth as a soul of infinite life;
I go forth as a jabiru upon unceasing winds.
The sacred eyes of the sky are filled with my splendors,
when I go forth as a jabiru to claim my millions of years.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (25): My Eyes Behold An Effective Spirit

My Eyes Behold An Effective Spirit

Whose words now ring in my ears upon leaving this western land?
It is the language of the Gods that becomes my enchantment,
removing the earth resting heavy on my limbs;
this earth into whom men retreat when their time on the banks has ended.
What I have accomplished is the swallowing of slumber by the nether sky;
she has devoured my sleep and fashioned for me the body of a star.
Sky, my Mother, has shouted for me my inheritance from the stars,
which have risen on the ladder of the east,
making love to the morning horizon.

Departing now, this land of the west;
fed by its stream, clad in the shades of its Gods,
and recognized as one of its effective spirits,
I withdraw in the company of the sun;
his body feeding the mouths of the hungry spirits with gold;
his eyes restoring their sight with beams of turquoise;
his form brightening their twilight waters with his burnished reflection.
Whose reflection do my eyes see in the water below?
My own two eyes stare back through the opaque keep of the flood;
and this brilliant countenance is my own, by whom the spirits are roused.

“Let us remember the language of that Ancient Earth”, they say,
“He having come before the primordial Gods;
He having moved the waters, pushing aside their torrent
to stand on the Mound of the first horizon;
he having brightened the first horizon with his mirror;
he having opened his two eyes in the hallows of darkness
to find the earth and sky;
he having pulled the Mound of ages from the embrace of nether sky;
he having clashed with serpents on the outer limits of the world;
he having brought the world up and out of darkness;
he being our first sun on our first horizon;
he finding his hand in the shadows and embracing his loins with her savor;
he becoming she, and they having spoken the language of the Gods
into existence.
Let us remember them with the language of memory,
which clothes the naked earth and returns the stars to their sky!”

Whose language becomes my memory of my many ages?
It is my heart traversing these lonely waters with me;
this waterway being the place where spirits may forget their memory,
wandering in the shadows and starving for the Sun-God’s light.
It is when we have forgotten the ancient language of the heart
that we lose the radiance of our effective spirit;
alighting not, but taking flight as an ibis into the western vault.
Ibis, you with your glimmering crest are the return of my heart to me;
remembering your transparent beauty,
your gold-dappled plumage,
your light’s mantle of many colors;
I call you to my breast and hold you there.
Your language is the memory of my heart,
speaking from your most ancient time as the passage of my many ages.

Ibis, who like moon’s crest shines by night,
fills my breast with his awareness light;
I behold the sights that he has seen,
in west’s full shadows and east’s bright sheen.

My heart flies fast to its ancient source,
upon whose leaves reads a stellar course;
the tree of Gods where the sun is reborn,
to grapple night’s serpent whose coils are shorn.

O earth of my Father and Mother’s sky,
I drink from your tree of my ages gone by;
its waters to fill me as west’s shadows fall,
its life to become me as eastern lights call.

A persea tree flowers after gloaming calls,
with malachite leaves and electrum boughs reaching heaven’s veil.
It beckons the stars to spell out their courses upon its oracular leaves;
these being written by knowing hands whose portends govern ages.
This is the place where my ibis heart has led me;
his wings unfurl the leaves upon which my names are written.
Twilight’s ears have never heard my names nor slumber imbibed them;
for only the dawn can read this most ancient language,
carried upon the tongue of the north wind and its stars.
Whose stars are these in their ascent over my northern brow?
They are my many and secret names clad in the Sun-God’s colors.

Here I come in the entourage of the northern stars,
whose channels through the celestial waters become my guide;
following after them, I behold my body rise from its deep horizon,
enchanting the banks of the earth below.
Behold you earth and sands of the ravenous desert!
I have risen above your graves, and your sands do not know me.
Your red land cannot possess my shroud of slumber,
nor your spirits hold my heart from its starry flight!

See me now you snares and clutches of the outer darkness,
for I have transformed my shade to become an ibis
of dazzling crest and plumage!
Whose name do I carry in my bill of hallowed metal?
Lord of the Eight Primordials is my name when my crest glimmers;
it is the badge of the eight and ancient Gods who assembled in the flood,
their tongues predicting the following of day after night;
their hands weaving the warp of light with the weft of shadow;
their loins meeting in the embrace of void and substance;
their feet treading the Mound and their hands uplifting the vault;
their right eyes foretelling the sun and their left eyes foretelling the moon;
their north becoming the wind and their south becoming the waters;
their serpents biting time and swallowing eternity;
and their language twining the first beginning as the birth of the Gods.

These are the words that have caused my ascension in the east,
while the west pays me homage on the day of my farewell;
not knowing me to tarry in its sands or follow after its graves,
I go forth by the uplifted hand of the morning sky.
Come near and hear these secrets of the Hidden Shrine
where my effective spirit has flown;
its scent of heady myrrh precedes the forthcoming of a god,
whose tamarisk feet bestow the lifespan of the sky to earth’s spirits.
Are you one of those spirits of the earth with famished lips?
Come then and drink these Mysteries had from the Ancient Earth,
which lifted up the Mound at the time of the first beginning;
they became the world’s nourishment when the Gods came into being.

My heart is an ibis with a crest of winking silver;
it carries the pale sky upon its wings of divine strength.
His scent is the myrrh which foretells the footfall of Gods,
hidden in their clouds of heavenly savor.
Their feet know the memories of the Ancient Earth,
whose ages came before the birth of breathing men.
Their ages came before all breath and its speech;
but their breath is the language through which speech is known.
The tongue cannot speak it nor the breath know it
until the heart draws it from the Mount of its beginning.
Will you rise as I have risen upon that dawning Mound?

My heart has woven a miracle for my breath and tongue;
proclaiming the speech of the Gods known before the world’s beginning.
These are the words secreted within the courses of unwearying stars,
the northern and eastern heavens resounding with their powers.
These are the words that ring in my ears upon entering this eastern land;
they are the enchantments of the Gods beheld by my effective spirit.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (24): Where the Sun Finds His Sanctuary

Where the Sun Finds His Sanctuary

I depart from the doorways of this world
without consolation of the things I have known.
A stranger in my own flesh; do I own my flesh?
A stranger beneath the sky; am I beneath my sky?
A stranger to the breath in my lungs; is there breath in my lungs?
A stranger to the beating of my heart; is that the beating of my heart;
or am I now a corpse in that place they call the hallowed west,
where the Sun-God comes in his old age to meet the mouth of His Mother?

Mother, I remember your body from before the day I was born.
It was your lake I swam in, nourished by the flood of my beginning.
What you passed to me was the wet breath of my mortality,
the language of clinging to my body of the earth before I knew earth;
but I knew my fingers, my toes, my mouth, and my beating heart.
It was your heart I heard in my flooded ears; swimming in the drum
through nine moons beating.

Mother, I remember the taste of your milk in my mouth,
your breasts of the sky feeding my lips constellations;
how the Unwearying Stars traverse the roof of my mouth,
as they traverse the sky from dawn until dusk.
It was your milk that gave me the stars of the midnight hour;
these passing down to me the memory of our first beginning
when we traveled the canals of the waters above.

Mother, you are my waters and you are my flood;
carry me in your breast and between your golden thighs.
Mother, you are the secret cavern where I will be reborn;
call me to your cleft of the Gods where I will become a god.
Mother, yours is the mouth in which the sun is swallowed;
take me in your lips of sunset where I will shine as nether sky’s mirror.

Mistress of the Sky, Mansion of Heaven, the Lady of Gold
whose starry belly reckons the years of gods and men;
I cannot be a stranger when I come to your dusky flank,
for my face glitters in the shadows like the Sun-God’s reflection;
I being the child of your sky, the seed of your holy cavern,
the very memory of your celestial form.

When I go in by night I shine as one of those Imperishable Stars;
your body my ladder and your hands my enchantments;
but when I come out, I go forth by day as the light of the eastern horizon;
your flood my beginning and your birth pangs my heart’s revival.
O Mother, be the sky stretched above my brow of gold,
and let your two arms clear a passage for me through the waters on high!
Shout for me, lift me up on the curve of your glittering thighs of metal,
and pronounce my name as a sacred star to dazzle on your horizon.

House of the Gods, Residence of the Hawk, Sanctuary of the Sun
in which the bodies of the living Gods are fashioned forever;
you cannot remain a secret from my two eyes when they find you,
for my eyes are the mirrors of the sky birthed from your keep;
my right eye opened by day as the sovereign of the turquoise east;
my left eye opened by night as the sovereign of the lapis west.
It is my eyes that know gold and master lapis lazuli,
and my body that sprouts turquoise as the beams of the afternoon sun.

Gods of the western horizon, hear my footsteps and remember my form,
born from the same Mother who gave you birth;
my body spreading the savor of the nether sky before me;
the sheen of my skin inherited from the flesh of the Sun-God;
the iridescence of my flank being that of the sacred beetle;
my loins possessing the flood that came forth from the beginning;
carrying between my thighs the Mound where the Great Ba-Soul rose;
my brow being the vertex of the Lord to the Limits;
the crown of my head being the horizon of the Cobra-Goddess;
and all of these forms of mine being the very members of the Gods.

I enter the doorways of the west in the company of the stars,
going before me to proclaim my names to the eternal sky;
and I too am eternal in the body of the heavens where I am born.
This is my breath you hear, O Gods;
it expands the lungs of the Cobra-Goddess!
This is my heart that beats, O Gods;
it rends the horizons of the vault at my forthcoming!
These are my eyes you see, O Gods;
they open up the east and the west with their wholesome gaze!
These are my nostrils you inhale, O Gods;
they approach with the northern wind as their gale!
These are my two lips that speak, O Gods;
their language fills your ears as the Sun-God’s command!
These are my powers you recognize, O Gods;
they precede me in the darkness of the nether vault,
becoming my entourage when I cross the threshold of the hallowed west!

You know my whisper, my breath, and the beating of my heart;
you feel my fingers, my toes, and the skin I had from my Mother;
for she is your Mother, too, and her skin is upon your very bones this day!

I depart from the doorways of this world
carrying the consolation of things known only to the Gods.
A master of my own flesh; my flesh is the language of the hallowed.
A master above the sky; my sky is the sanctuary of the sun.
A master of the breath in my lungs; my breath contains the words of deities.
A master of the beating of my heart; my heartbeat sounds the memory
of the Gods from the ancient beginning;
for I am I now a body of radiant light in that place they call the hallowed west,
where the Sun-God comes in his old age to meet the mouth of His Mother.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Who Comes For Me

Who Comes For Me

Who comes for me when I am alone in the sand of the west?
When my eyes have beheld the Two Banks departing,
the florid sky in the company of that mouth of descending;
who comes to lift up my two feet from the hungry desert?
Those Nine Gods come from the mouth of the horizon
to lead me by the hand;
as they do for that Great Ram-Soul when he approaches
with skin of gold and hair of lapis lazuli.

I am complete within the keeping of the earth,
and my sacred sky cannot be removed from my long stride of millions.
My unbound feet have found their magical direction;
my toes, the hallowed ground upon which spirits shift;
my legs, the west wind which carries swallows where the sun dies;
my loins, where the south keeps its secret flood of my beginning;
my upright member, of my Father and through which I am renewed;
my navel, of my Mother and through which her magic fed me;
my heart, the mound of the Benu-bird upon which his flame alights;
my throat, dilated with the fresh northern breath of the Serpent-Goddess;
my lips, the seat of the God Ptah, whose arm of heavenly metal
opens up the mouths of the Gods;
my tongue, the mount to which the God Djehuty ascends in his time,
the place where the members of the Eight Primordials are assembled;
my nostrils, the Twin Lions who open yesterday and know tomorrow;
my right eye, the Ark of the Day whose forthcoming predicts Ra
on his eastern horizon;
my left eye, the Ark of Twilight in whose cabin is carried the golden
Ram-Soul of the west;
my two eyebrows, the eastern and western horizons from which
the Lord to the Limits goes forth;
my brow, the vertex of the Sun-God whose Cobra-Goddess abounds
in her breath for him;
my arms, lifting up the four quarters of the sky, becoming the very
pillars of the sky through whose vigor the Unwearying Stars climb;
my two hands, the mountains called Bakhu and Manu, where rise
and set the two mirrors of Ra who governs the horizons.

Hear me all you spirits in the company of the west,
for my edicts are the commands of the Nine Gods and their overlord;
that Great Soul whose flesh traverses the twelve hours and reckons
all their powers.
I too am the skin, blood, bones, and members of the Great Ram-Soul;
my passage of light through the twilight hours becomes a second life
for those spirits in the shadows.

Where is my shade when I traverse the secret pathways in the west?
It follows in my footsteps as the shades of the Nether Sky
raise their hands in homage;
my light becoming their guide through the terrors,
my face gleaming as a mirror of burnished electrum in the dark.
Follow in the tread of my sunlit feet you souls of the western earth,
and I will guide you to that holy sycamore where the sky springs forth
with verdant life.

Who comes for me when I approach those Twin Sycamores
whose faces meet the turquoise veil of the sky;
whose leaves of starry malachite reckon the years of souls,
as they reckon the entourage of the Imperishable Stars.
I see the Sun-Calf making long strides between the two sycamores;
his spotty flank is a map of the northern sky, and my eyes may read its secrets.
His speech is the tongue of that Sycamore-Goddess,
pouring out between her rosy-gold breasts a ladder to the eternal sky.
I hear his words and know their magic;
I drink from those celestial breasts, and ascend as one of those
Imperishable Stars.

Who comes for me when the Imperishable Stars lift me up,
when my two lips become the crescent shrines of Khonsu-Neferhotep?
I behold the Henu-Ark in its moment of ascension;
when its sparrowhawk of gold alights upon its Mound;
when its strong runners glide upon its sand;
when its sledge is firmly placed in its stellar courses;
when its towrope of gold shines through the dusky hours;
when its cabin becomes the soil-black Mound of its lord;
when the God Sokar appears upon his sand wearing his lofty crown;
and I become a follower in his entourage of spirits,
triumphant when the hours of shade are traversed by the risen sun.

Who comes for me when twilight falls and lips grow silent?
Is there a stirring in the west as my countenance passes,
even as the west stirs at the approach of Ra in his ruddy mantle.
I see with my two eyes the emergence of Ra from his Mound of the shade;
his body appearing in shadow as the iridescent beetle claiming the dawn.
He pushes his dawn before him, as eventide follows on his glittering heels.
I become the Shade of Ra projected from his light beams;
and turquoise becomes me, gold foretold by my brow of celestial metal.

Is my fragrance known to the spirits and shades of the sacred west?
I say it is; and my breath comes over the whole of this land
as a cloud of fine myrrh becoming of a god.
You spirits and shades imbibe it with your flared nostrils,
this scent of mine cast from the presence of my golden skin;
you relish it as the sky acclaims the lamps of its stars,
as the holy sycamore drinks her flood from the secret cavern of the earth.

Who comes for me when I am alone in the sand of the west?
Is my right hand taken and my fingers cradled like those of a naked child?
I say they are; and I see my passage in the west made by the hands
of my Sky-Goddess, whose starry body becomes my second home,
whose breasts find my lips in my moment of unquenchable thirst.
My thirst is quenched, and my two feet are doused with the sacred flood.
Loneliness, I do not know you; not in the presence of my Father of the earth.
Death, I do not become you; not as I pass through the thighs of my Mother
of the sky.

Who comes for me?
You come for me, and your name is Ra of the heights,
the Lord to the Limits of the Sky, whose reflection is the mirror of heaven,
whose body ornaments the Two Lands with turquoise.
I am that shade, that light, that lamp, that mirror, that turquoise;
and I grow from the earth unencumbered by nightfall and unknown to sleep.
I am a star on your crest of the sacred sky,
and it is you as the keeper of stars who comes for me.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (22): Walking With Date Palms

Walking With Date Palms

Remove the veil from my eyes O sky
so that I, like you in your finest hour,
may peer out openly at the ascending stars;
whose charted courses still appear mysterious to my virgin eyes,
stripped now of their illusions and in wonder like a child.
I need no veil to disguise my intentions,
no cloud or mantle to hide away my heart from sunset;
he comes to greet me with fiery gold upon his shoulders,
the west wind at his back;
the desert in its jealous rages is quelled by his upright footsteps.

He greets me with the song of sparrows weaving through his clouds;
those ruddy clouds dancing above the sovereign cliffs and mountains,
bestowing their sand to the winds as a chafing gift;
but still I need no veil to hide my naked shoulders.
I would rather wear the cape of the indomitable sky,
whose only industry is to make love to the sun;
to cradle the clouds that come to rise upon the celestial waters;
to give the eastern horizon a mirror to sit upon its golden throne;
to give starry Mother a child to swallow when he descends the western horizon;
to give the constellations a veil of lapis lazuli for their glittering limbs.
It is they, not I, who don the twilight veil to become the house of Mysteries.

I have walked alone these many and opaque ages;
many lifetimes with the pall of ignorance as my inheritance,
with eyes that are open yet carry no sight.
How much cooler to embrace the desert’s mirage
than brave the sands for what they are.
Should I take up that veil again to soften the sun’s glare;
his eager stare blazing over my tender skin like the heat of a lover?
I would rather kiss his fingers where they fall,
offer him the cool luxury of my bed;
these before I would shield his existence from my exposed purpose.

Having run away from the sun when I was only a child,
I turn now and face his scathing embrace;
and what I find in the florid sky is a mirror reflecting
the tread of my careless feet through this world.
Burning through the skins of others, I have become the desert sun.
All along it was never I who needed the veil’s protection,
but the eyes of others whose hearts were burned by my stare.

Now I am walking with date palms,
whose fruit like gemstones falls in my waiting lap.
Justice is loyal to herself; she follows the hands that work for the tree
wherever they have traveled.
Tears are the bounty she brings for the eyes that have caused them;
fear is the edge of her sword drawn to the shield held against her;
thirst is the glance of her ample bosom held out for the mouth
that opposed her;
but she requites with favor the heart that knows her noble labors;
she bestows in kind what the heart has to give her.

Shall I hold out two doves in my waiting hands,
offering to you the peace that wind brought me from the tender north?
Have you heard their cooing voices,
so like the persuasions of my heart when it joins you?
You who have become a journeyer with me,
whose eyes have looked east to face the blazing sun;
you whose feet have tread the thorny and fallen boughs;
you whose lips have ached to kiss my half moon lips;
you whose hands have held the wandering stars to guide me;
you whose arms have never faltered to keep my sky suspended;
you whose names have moved my lips when my knees drew the earth;
you whose words twittered in my ears with the language of sparrows;
you whose wings found wind and sky beckoning above my brow;
you in whose keeping the hallowed Mysteries have remained inviolate.
You have moved your feet on the blare of the desert wind beside me,
and I lift up my two hands to offer you the refuge of my heart.

I lift up my open palm of water to the thirsty sky,
and through its miracle I feed the world.
There is no desert left in me for you to brave with starving feet;
there are no stones for you to cross in your path;
there are no mountains to tear the veil of your peaceful sky;
there is no flame hidden from your cold hands when the sun is devoured;
there is no torrent to blot out the starry courses that go before you;
there is no endless journey in the sky for the swallow’s wings of your soul;
there are no labors in the sun without the moon to reward them;
there is no heaven without the illumination of stars to light it.
These all may be found for you in the open palm of my hand,
which carries the miracle of water to quench the thirsty sky.

Shelter me as does the earth to mountains;
not in my time of weakness, but when my heart climbs high with fortitude.
I am a date palm in the wind of your adept fingers;
my fruit falls into your waiting hands
as do stars through the dusky veil.
The veil cannot hold them, those stars of brilliant ages,
whose lamps form a trail of gold across a lapis dome;
and no veil can contain the far-striding feet of my heart,
light upon the pathways of the earth when nearing you.

If that canopy above us remains parched by the desert gale,
then we will lift up our open palms of water to the thirsty sky;
and through our miracle we will feed the world.
Now we are walking with date palms,
stripped of our illusions and in wonder like a child.
This is our finest hour, beholding the ascending stars
with fresh and virgin eyes as they ascend with millions of ages.
They come down through the paths of the desert sky
as they have always done;
and we come back through the paths of the desert earth
as we have always done.
We need no veil to disguise our intentions,
our stars glistening in their ancient courses.
We need no mantle to clothe our eyes,
walking with date palms through the desert crossroads.
We need only open our palms of water to the thirsty sky,
and through our miracle we will feed the world.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa