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

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