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

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Girdle of the Sky

Girdle of the Sky

She is the sycamore mistress whose supple arms encircle the sky,
her gilt branches winking in the languid embrace of the sun’s final moments.
How he stretches down for her, dappling those leaves and naked feet;
how lofty reach those arms of gold, those fingers of turquoise splendor.

Her name is House of Heaven as she stands upon her hill;
receiving the Sun-God’s diadem which outshines him upon her brow.
Two upright horns in whose curve radiates the power above the vault;
she receives him by eventide with half moon lips through which the stars
glimmer.

We enter her twilight cleft in the western mount where Sun-God slumbers;
his descended body swallowed by her mouth of celestial flood.
Is she not the keeper of his seasons, the golden vessel in which he lies;
when she becomes the tree of the fecund mound to receive him when he dies.

When the sacred river is at its flood she dips her naked toes;
a net of dusky gold glistens in her wake, her footfall watched by gods.
Ruddy lips catch a taste of the flood rushing fast to savor her ankles;
how quickly turn the heads of gods and men to steal a glance as she drifts by.

She dips low beneath the flood like that lotus when sundown calls;
how her twin mounds of east and west rise with vigor above the waters.
The Sun-God chases the wind to find his secret throne between them;
and blushes the flood as its wet kiss finds the source of life’s nourishment.

On the riverbank beside her weave and dance the papyrus scepters;
zesh-zesht, zesh-zesht they whisper as her wet thighs emerge.
Sycamore cow is her name when her flood meets the earth,
when all that is green becomes an ornament of turquoise at her breast.

Here Gods and men process to the quaking of hips and thighs;
when heaven’s shrine thunders, her voice cracks open earth and sky.
Drum and rattle and terror are hers as she takes to ecstatic movement;
how the eyes of all tumble down when she crashes in a cloud of myrrh!

Beneath the acacias whose branches sweep the vault she dances
without respite;
malachite green and real lapis lazuli follow her sacral tread.
With brow in the sky and feet under soil she knots the worlds in union;
her divine throne making her home the keeping of Gods and men.

She has made of her sycamore branches a perch for the Sacred Falcon;
he alights with eyes wide open to the shrine of celestial play.
With her lithe body she girdles the sky whose sun becomes her lover;
as nightfall sweeps the river he receives heaven’s dappled embrace.

It is she who lifts him above the earth, the place where he alights;
her lotus breath becomes his name when she holds him firm by night.
Her stars she bestows to her lover of air, her eyes become his crown;
when earth pays homage to his sacred feet it is she who draws him down.

Night finds her braided tresses home of moon with stars behind;
a crescent to form a diadem and a net of gold to shine.
When daylight brightens her perfect form as girdle of the sky,
a gilded belly flashes copper navel above an ebony shrine.

Sycamore Goddess whom earth and sky follow appears full-faced by dawn;
the Sun-God’s yawning arms stretch far to hail her lotus face unfurling.
Our sacred river leaps in its turbulent courses to kiss her vaunted roots;
the earth itself rising to follow when her fingers arouse his Two Banks.

What raiment does she need when all of heaven is her mantle;
creation wraps her primordial form in fine gold and beams of turquoise.
Yet ground and vault dance with desire for the raptures of her light;
our sky’s girdle by which the life of the sun becomes our eternal mansion.

All text copyright © 2016 Ptahmassu Nofra-Uaa