Friday, October 11, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Excerpt from the book of the dead.
Might of might. Splendor of splendor. This is the terror inherent in love: that such power may exist without reason, that death may be feared and lusted for as a woman, that passion gives rise to passion. I am moved by desire as if in a boat transported from horizon to horizon. What I have done for love, let it be held against me. I am a man whose heart is too full. I am a man empty of sin. It is life I desire and my lust for it and I shall enter the heart of the mountain together. Together we shall be judged by shining beasts and they shall say "There walks he who loved life." One day, with a shout, I'll rise through the sky. My voice will mingle with air. I'll cross horizons; with silver wings I'll enter the realm of magic. Within the temple of mountain and sky, corn grows amid earth's yellow scars. This is the sacred cathedral of Ra into which men long to enter. My name will recall the countless stars under which new lovers kiss. Death ferries me to a distant shore while striped fish spawn on turquoise waters, while black fish leap in white rivers.
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