My Tomb Is On This Shore

My Tomb Is On This Shore

My tomb is on this shore,
in the place where the earth is swallowed by the sky;
His nakedness is covered by Her imperishable stars
for the eyes of swallows ascending the western vault.
And my nakedness?
His loins are awakened by the flowers of the sky;
beaten gold and ruddy copper flash as His girdle,
growing from a garden the hands of the Gods have planted;
cornflower and lotus unfurling their bright petals,
lighting a lamp before him
in the darkness of the desert’s edge.

I call on the Lord of the Rivers
to meet me by the water’s mouth;
Sebek Who is in the Water,
the Great Crocodile beautiful of forms;
who tears the sky with His double plumes,
appearing in the east as the Lord of Bakhu-Mountain.
This mountain is my destination, the sky rent above its peak;
and it is this crocodile of flashing white teeth
who makes a gap for my wings to enter.

My tomb is on this shore,
at the junction between the earth and sky;
He beholds the entourage of jabirus dancing
in their pilgrimage through that torn and glimmering veil.
And my pilgrimage?
His dance is the ascension of lamps in heaven’s lap,
whose yawning places him at the gate of a stellar home;
the tireless stars of generations hailing,
making of their song a guide for the wings of souls.
I answer when my ears of twilight are opened,
and my mouth breathes the breath the crocodile has woven.

I call on that Crocodile great of terror
to meet me by the desert’s mouth;
Sebek Who is Ruler of the Desert Edge,
whose teeth and claws reveal the flashing of the sun;
He coming on the dark waters to predict light,
crossing waterways as the sky flees His shadow.
These waterways are my destination, this Shadow my guide;
and I am brought up by the One Who Flies to the Skies,
who makes the starry vault a road for my wings.

My tomb is on this shore
in the place where the earth gives way to the sky;
His nakedness is revealed as the pathway of stars
for the eyes of herons rising on the eastern ladder.
And my nakedness?
His brow is crowned by the crest of the sky;
striking flame and sun’s eye are His mantle,
shooting forth from a horizon the Gods have opened;
thigh of bull and crocodile’s tail unveil their power,
lighting a lamp before Him
in the darkness of the sky’s edge.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Advertisements

Ateruw / I Will Never Let Them Go

Ateruw

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these jewels the Gods dropped one by one
into the floodwaters;
the finest gold, turquoise, and malachite,
catching the sun’s hands by the tips of their fingers;
these jewels the Gods dropped one by one
into the river they love.

I have loved, too, as I dropped my body for you,
wrapped in dazzling white linen
on the breath of a festival day;
taking to the waters that drew near to kiss me,
as I imagined your skin drawing near in perfection.
Ateruw is the name of this flood that knows my name,
gliding past my eyes on either side.

I could tell the eyes of the sky
that the Earth-God has summoned me;
His arms flashing with turquoise,
His limbs of burnished gold making a mirror of my skin;
but my hands caught the river
in their eager net of flesh,
with kisses and devotion sliding beneath his surface.

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these prayers my lips have woven one by one;
into the flood they have slipped with desire,
to flash beneath the surface for my hungry net.
Rosy gold and most holy stone have dropped from my sight,
their words of value still singing to my ears;
and I will never let them go, once their song has faded.

I have sung songs the sacred river knows,
wrapped in heady myrrh on a festival day.
Their words catch the Gods in a net of perfume,
carried on sandalwood with jasmine flowers in bloom.
They are the jewels that draw near in perfection,
as other voices slip through the holes my net leaves;
and I will never let them go, once their time has ended.

I could tell the ears of the river
that the Sky-Goddess has summoned me;
Her thighs embraced by a canopy of stars,
Her golden breasts full for my hungry lips;
but my hands caught the clouds
in their quick net of lust,
with my spirit and intentions lost beneath his surface.

They glide past my eyes on either side,
these flowers the Gods dropped one by one
into their earthly garden;
carnelian, jasper, and real lapis lazuli,
catching the breath of the sky by the tip of Her tongue;
these jewels the Gods have let slip by me,
one by one into the river they love.

I have loved, too, as I dropped my shadow for you,
wrapped in a heart of fiery red stone
on the glare of a midsummer day;
taking to the holy sycamore that drew near to kiss me,
as I imagined your soul drawing near in perfection.
Ateruw is the name of this vessel that holds me,
gliding past my eyes on either side.

I could tell the lips of the earth
that the Gods have summoned me;
their souls of turquoise like flames rising high,
their wings of lapis lazuli holding the sun in His mirror;
but my hands caught the western mountains
in their net of flesh and bone,
with my heart and shadow lost beneath his surface.

I have held the jewels the Gods once held,
wrapped in their mysteries
on the skin of a festival day;
taking to the waters that slip by the net of my eyes,
tempting my hands with perfection as they draw near.
They are the words my soul’s ears will always hear,
and I will never let them go, once my heart has mended.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

My Ba-Soul Found A Home

My Ba-Soul Found A Home

My body found a home
on the day the earth was opened;
he made a sanctuary for me
and filled it with sand.
His gale was the mourning of time
tearing through the lonely peaks;
that one western peak still lit by the dying sun.
Do they come to shed tears for me,
these winds, these sands, these peaks;
or do they proclaim time as the victor,
whose unstoppable footfall makes pilgrimage
to every door.

My image found a home
with blue marguerites on gold;
they flashed for my hidden eyes
against a shroud like the empty sky.
While the mountains reach to embrace her-
she stretching naked above-
my hands find garlands of cornflowers
chanting in heavenly tones.
Do all their petals sing for me,
the cornflower, lotus, and mandrake;
or do they bid the living to live,
to wear well life’s fragile garland.

My ren-name found a home
like a nest in your memory,
where swallows twitter the words
the Gods wove on my mother’s tongue.
Speaking the colors of dawn- never of sunset-
you bring back my steps
to the gate of the eastern sky;
he receives me with a flourish of music
from your garden.
I hear the acclamation of sycamores
as my name darts between them;
my memory comes on swallow’s wings
to lift your heart to my eaves.
Do they always speak of me,
the sycamore, acacia, and willow;
or do they speak of life in their boughs,
swept up by the breath of the wind when he blows.

My ab-heart found a home
where the heron flies by day;
on his breast where the sun is born,
where the turquoise of sunrise hails.
I see with carnelian eyes and hear with jasper ears,
when the flight of spirits opens the sky
to close west’s hungry eyes.
Find me a crest, a wing, a talon;
for I have heard every bird with my ears,
and seen their trek with my eyes.
There is no clothing on the sky
when my heart beats below her;
she makes bright with starry form
my naked loins inside her.
Do they shine for me,
these stars, these lights, these lamps;
or do they tell of heaven’s hold
on earth’s ever-changing skin.

My ka-double found a home
where the ancient Gods abide;
whose immortal bodies share their life
from the flood where life began.
I was with them- all these Gods-
before the heavens and earth existed;
and I shall rise with their enduring stars
beyond the life of the world.
Deny or receive them, these Gods live,
whose forms may not be counted;
and I shall live with them in the vault
where travel the uncountable stars.
Do they travel for you in the sky,
these Gods, these stars, these ages;
or do they endure without our will
to shine for creation’s eyes.

My ba-soul found a home
in the place where jabirus walk;
their trail in the florid veil beckons wide,
a beacon of dancing flame.
The door was closed behind him
when twilight’s mouth was opened;
another door before his eyes
made wings from the dying sky.
I chase the rising stars by night,
their gates hold west at bay;
I make the dawn my gilded flight,
my corpse to rest by day.
Do they behold my corpse when he sleeps,
these birds of stellar design;
or do they see a changeless light
these eyes can see as mine.

My khaibit-shadow found a home
beside the swollen river,
whose tongue of beginnings speaks my name
when the nether waters rise.
I am this god who rises
from death’s terrestrial cavern;
to pass through the lapis veil above
without time’s heavy shroud.
Do not look for me in earth or tomb
where corpses go to slumber;
for I like the Gods pass through these doors
to claim the untiring sky.
Will you look for me within these hands,
this earth, this tomb, this corpse;
or will you see me as I soar,
a shade of the starry mantle.

My sekhem-power found a home
between the mountain’s thighs;
her gap in waiting held me tight
where the seed of the sun is born.
She glimmers for me with gold and electrum,
with lapis and turquoise stones;
these gods to become my flesh,
these spirits to become my bones.
You wear me like a garland of spring
whose poppies raise you high;
I throb as that drum between your legs
which reaches for the sky.
Does he come for me at dawn,
your spring, your drum, your garland;
or does he rise on the life within him
that knows the immortal cry.

My effective-akh found a home
in the nether marsh of light;
his radiant crest brought me up
where the Eye of the Sun is woken.
My plumes of dappled luster
foretell the day when dusk has fallen;
my eyes display the body of the sun
in whose mirror I am reflected.
Do not search the earth for me,
the banks, the fields, or mountains;
the horizons alone tell my story
every day from season to season.
Where I travel there are no corpses,
no skin or bones and blood;
for I am now a radiant form
above earth’s fragile mantle.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (32): Raise Up My Body / Let Your Sky Receive Me

Raise Up My Body

My journey has brought me across the horizons
where sparrows carry the tongue of the Sun-God;
his words of dusk and daybreak shatter the loneliness of the sky,
now bright, now forlorn as morning and evening seek me.
What have I to do with sparrows who gossip of nightfall,
who summon with their little wings the movements of the veil?
I listen, and they speak of the Sun-God’s fragile skin,
a pale lotus of celestial blue;
he rises for them to unfurl his divine petals,
the language of the sky;
whereupon they chatter the words that part the veil before them.

Have they come to twitter of my slumber,
these sparrows who carry the mark of fire upon their breast?
I would be warmed by the face of their sun,
not drowned in the waters beneath the earth,
nor taken down by the cavern where wings tread the darkness.
The earth has become my father again, as he was when I was his seed;
shall I become a field of turquoise glimmering,
or a pasture of malachite summoning the flood?
If the earth is my father, then I shall wear a crown of cypress
upon my dusky brow;
I shall call the willow my second home, its mournful boughs my refuge.

I would have the bright wings of a heron,
whose immaculate sheen recalls the Sun-God’s first morning;
that morning which came fast over the torrent of the abyss,
pushing from it the sacral mound of the first beginning.
Here I would take the hand of my mother stretching out from the stars;
she comes from the Unwearying Ones, she comes from the north,
where rise but never tarry the Ancients who flew before me.
Mother, I see your starry breast and seize your glinting fingers;
your metal is gold which I take to my lips, your breast a constellation;
these are the stars that carry me to your thighs where life is waiting.

The heights I was called down from have called me back again;
the earth who is my keeper must give way to heaven’s gaze.
The Bull’s Thigh who bore me now appears before my eyes,
in whose lofty reflection the north is roused from its western daze.
Who comes in the north to be my mother, who opens wide her thighs;
my yawning horizon of eastern metal with electrum in her eyes.

You goddess of northern breast and eastern thighs,
where the Sun-God travels to recover his face of morning;
open for me your cleft of the dawn and secure for me our beginning.
I approach with the flesh and bones of a mortal man;
raise up my body from the earth and let your sky receive me.
I approach with the bleary eyes of a twilight wanderer;
open wide my eyes with northern light and let your stars behold me.
I approach with lips sealed fast by the nether sky;
open up my mouth with heavenly metal and let your speech become me.
I approach with nostrils shut against the wind;
open up my nose with that heavenly lotus and let your breath suffuse me.
I approach with loins of western slumber;
open up my channels with living blood and let your womb conceive me.
I approach with the sand of the desert on my feet;
open up the river above my brow and let your flood cleanse me.
I approach knowing the season of nightfall;
open up the day before my feet and let your dawn shine through me.

I see the sparrows now and hear their language in my heart;
not the gossip of the evening, but the words of the morning,
ringing clear through the passing clouds;
they pass on by, but I do not pass, with lips and nostrils breathing.
My heart has sheltered a heron, who knows what the great Gods know;
the earth that gives us cannot keep us, like the mountains that kiss the sky;
our earth becomes our Father, but our Mother lifts us high.

Father, I have my bones from you, my skin and breath of clouds;
but these things I return to you when the heights call me back to her arms.
I hear the willow and cypress, the boughs of your ancient sycamore;
but he too lets go of my feet when the tread of the sky finds my toes.
My arms become the wings of a heron to know the Imperishable Stars;
and I like they have a crest for a mirror, from which the Sun-God shines.

Mother, your body takes my earthly bones, my skin and eyes of water;
these things began in the heights of your stars,
where the light that guides the earth comes.
I behold your northern sky, your cleft of gold and its ocean;
blood swells my loins and I enter the lips where life first hears its calling.
O you goddess of twilight breast and morning thighs,
where all souls travel to recover their first language of the sky;
open for me your legs of the soul-house and give me my beginning.
I approach with the flesh and bones of a mortal man;
raise up my body from the earth and let your sky receive me.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Heart of Red Jasper Is Your Name

Heart of Red Jasper is Your Name

The Goddess Nuit brings you with her lips when she comes;
west’s mouth opens at twilight where your flashing star rises.
Your luminescence foretells the rising flank of the naked moon;
‘lips of lapis lazuli’ is your name at the moment of his ascension.

Djehuty declares you by the enchantment of his tongue;
you glide from his divine speech as a silver crescent’s boon.
What graces my mouth is the fullness of heaven’s eye;
‘tongue of silver’ is your name when his gleam strikes my lips.

The Goddess Auset binds you to me with her girdle;
she brings at her breast the sanguine knot of sky’s magic.
Seven knots surround your center on her seat of constant ardor;
‘heart of red jasper’ is your name where my breast keeps you.

Ausir the green raises you from his pasture when he comes;
sprouting seed weaves your field as the earth my feet travel.
How you rise by the flood the Good God urges from my loins;
‘thighs of malachite’ is your name as you spring from my hand.

The Goddess Hwt-Her shakes your sycamore of the sky;
with swaying hips she catches you between her western mounds.
My mirror leads lonely eyes up the trail of starry branches;
‘boughs of turquoise’ is your name on the morning heaven sways you.

Amun-Ra brings your cloud of myrrh when he comes;
I inhale the rising sun on my heart’s holy horizon.
The Lord of Thrones has placed you before his tree of myrrh;
‘god-making fragrance’ is your name when your breath leads the sky.

The Goddess Muwt fulfills your soul when her lake swells;
she navigates with the roar of your name by moonlight on her waters.
I am there to drink your zeal as thunder tears the sky;
‘traveler of splendor’ is your name when you sail my lightning skin.

Khonsu-Neferhotep brings your shade when he comes;
an open lotus meets the eyes of the sky by daybreak’s blush.
How the east shares your body with the holy river’s mirror;
‘shadow of the Sun-God’ is your name by dawn and twilight.

The Goddess Sekhmet opens your eyes with her hands of might;
your sky becomes her brow of life where ceaseless flame is kindled.
I tread the horizon where I am led into that sight of power;
‘eye of flame’ is your name when your heart of jasper strikes me.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

Sacred Verses (31): I Know the Language of Swallows

I Know the Language of Swallows(2)

The sky is my mother who summons me from the west,
her net of gods shining over her body of stellar metal;
they who appear upon her mantle of lapis lazuli,
glimmering over the horizon as dust of fine gold.
I came forth from her when the fresh east yawned,
passing the morning beetle of iridescent shell and wing;
how I made my youthful appearance over these lands,
bolstered by the north wind whose voice knows my name.

This wind-god says to me:
“My Sky-Goddess calls you in the west;
she holds the gate of the hidden land in her mouth of the Unwearying Stars,
where fly the bird-souls who converse with the sun.
Behold their ruddy faces and wings of burnished metal,
going round the limits of the sky who speaks their tongue;
the language of the east which howls with the dawn,
which declares life and denies slumber.

“I soar beneath the bellies of the clouds that uplift swallows,
who in their beaks carry the words of the Sun-God when he sails.
They rise by me to declare what they know, and you rise by me;
what you know is that eastern tongue which reckons the dawn,
its light-rays and heron of dazzling white crest.
My eyes are open and rise as the heron rises;
you too with open eyes shall rise as the heron rises,
with crest of curd white and mantle of blinding electrum.

“You enter the west as a ram of the earth with aged skin,
with dusky gold as your flesh and silver as your bones.
When the swallows titter to my clouds, they tell of your sleep;
what all men come to when they walk in the east and veer west,
when they draw the breath of sky and eat from the earth;
but the west knows the east as south foretells north,
and your feet of these directions follows your breath of the sky”.

My breath is my mother who embraces me in the north;
she appears to set me upright between her rosy-gold thighs,
the ladder where souls burst forth to herald eternity.
I am fashioned from their same metal, from their mirror of electrum;
when I appear it is with the face of the untarnished sun,
rising as the Wind-God said I would, cognizant of the language of swallows.

Do living men know the language of swallows?
We see them weave to and fro in the boughs of the sycamore,
our eyes of earth blind against the train of spirits rising with them;
for their eyes are of spirit while their wings alight on earth,
unlike the eyes of men which see only earth and know only skin.
But I who know the Sun-God take up his colors on my flesh,
and when I go into the west it is with the wings of a dawn-knowing swallow.

You swallows of the Sun-God bear his holy marks on face and breast;
red is the Sun-God’s color when he rises with your sanguine wings,
when he captures the eastern sky from its nighttime coils.
My face glows red and my breast is dappled with jasper,
having gazed upon your sycamores and made my flight between them.
Your wings know my arms, you swallows, and your red cowl becomes me;
it brightens the pre-dawn horizon with the blood of my enemies;
sleep in the west and bleariness in my eyes.
These eyes of mine are open with the eyes of swallows,
never bleary, and sharp with the lance of first light.

These swallows say to me:
“Look!  Open your eyes to see the thighs of your mother, opening.
She is the lamp of the nether sky uplifting the lamps of the stars to her breasts;
these gods of the primordial sea who light the way for spirits traveling.
Travel then, when your time for entering the west comes!
Travel with our wings upon you so that your feet do not tarry on the earth;
but they mix with the Unwearying Stars that sweep the east,
that drive forward the clouds and herald the day.

“Our enchantments are the east which meets birth;
the earth that meets sky;
the gap of the west that meets bird-souls;
the breath that meets the north;
the flood that meets the south;
the turquoise that meets the desert;
the date palm that meets the arid country;
the acacia that meets the rain;
the lotus which meets the nose of the sun;
the sun who meets the horizon;
the horizon which meets the nether sky;
the nether sky which meets the earth above.

“These are the enchantments, the words, the language the Sun-God tells us,
and only the ears that hear his colors may know his speech;
they who know his colors and thus know his speech will know the lives he lives.
His colors are these Gods upon him, which see his lives as theirs in the sky;
so know his colors and thus his lives, and live as he lives in the eternal sky!”

The sky is my mother who raises me in the east,
her skin of brilliant fabric woven from the stars;
they whose unwearying eyes see spirits rise
as swallows of the ruddy dawn.
I came forth from her with their language on my lips,
open with the lance of daybreak by which the earth lives.
This is how I live again, once the west has summoned,
when my tread follows birds of iridescent crest and wing.
How I make my youthful appearance over these lands,
uplifted by the north wind whose voice knows my name.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa

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

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