raveness17

sunlight scatters wide beetle strings the days along greetings, Kheperi

As darkness lines the rivers sandy shores, the air grows heavy with Her burdened sigh in yearning for the days long gone before, in want for ardent prayers to hear reply; The people lay in wait for His return -- "Where is our King?" -- their somber rally call; they hold their breath, the widow's lantern burns as Aset's shrieks tell that their Lord has fall'n. No crown upon the throne of Kemet sits! No Lord over the Two Lands holds His sway! The thunder groans, the skies begin to split and torrents fall to wash the tears away. Soon in shining splendor will He reign O'er Western lands, unburdened of all pain.

Sesheshet shake, shining silver at the Lady's feet. Chantresses sing, slinking softly at the Lady's feet. Incense smokes, sweet scents rising at the Lady's feet. The rush and rattle of the Lady's songs, bright and brilliant in Her halls, makes danger flee and demons run from the Lady's joyful hymns. In the radiance of Her love, children scamper, women dance, princes laugh and kings are glad. In the splendor of Her temple, the jingling sistra give Her praise -- and praised, the Lady gives Her love.

I woke in darkness and silence. I didn't know where I was, or what was happening. I couldn't quite tell if I was standing or sitting, and when I tried to open my eyes - everything was dark. When I tried to speak no sound came out. I tried to clap my hands, and while I felt my own body, I heard no sound. I stayed, mute, deaf and blind, for what seemed like years. I stayed remarkably calm, I'll admit. Eventually, I heard a faint voice, growing louder. My vision began to lighten, and I found myself sitting on a white couch, in a white room. Standing next to me, leaning hard on a spear, was a tall, tan man, wearing scale armor, a white linen kilt

I spend my mornings curled and draped all over the bed, dreading the fact that I don't want to untangle my limbs from your limbs, pull myself, staggering and dripping sleep, away from you. I keep binding myself to a pledge perhaps made in folly, forged in fear that my fickle fancy would glaze my gaze in desire; still, I wrap my hand in yours, resting my faith in your arms, giving up my grief in your embrace. The shards and scraps of days - glassy bits of amber afternoons, brittle fragments of gentle mornings - line the soles of my feet as I stand on the roof again, marking my path on the shingles, seared by the heat

Watching the cracks spread through the ceiling, watching the walls chip their paint getting naked like children when mom turns her back and feeling the burn of failed attempts spreading over my lonely frame.

Chilly chords wrap around her brain, stumbling up the wire from the output jack to her ear, crawling through the fluid throwing off her balance for the night. She walked right fast this week right past the painted fraternity rocks and the cars sitting idle and mute letting fire and thunder burn her, battering against her eardrum, flooding in through the tiny space in her skull clanging lances and spears to scour her of whatever she's hiding. She buries herself between a minor chord and some poorly tuned guitar that nobody will hear - or a soft and sweet piano ode that she would never play - and peels the muscle from h

The rank concrete reflects the ring of the yelp and squeal of a red-eyed hound ferrying us here and there - the noise a better fare than turning our heads against the yowling wind, lashing and winding against the brick walls of the building. Behind the windows our voices make a humble shelter - our praise and our laughter are brick upon brick of the foundation of a temple. Scratching notes on lined paper building our own staircases and escalators and motorized walkways (and sometimes, trap-doors complete with ladders to climb back out). Despite our humanity and failure, we still stand at the feet of something we