How many moons have crossed the sky in my wanderings through this world of illusion? They stretch into infinity it seems. How unobtainable you appear, orb of pearl and dreams and object of fascination. A line from one of my favourite films comes to mind. Bette Davis implores Paul Henreid not to ask for more in their fraught relationship:
“Don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”
Indeed. Luna has been imbued with much mystery and longing. It’s been used as an instrument to corral time. Time, how it eludes, drives to distraction. It weighs heavy and infused with regret and expectation. I carry the past and future within the chalice of the present. What a responsibility! All that’s been written and read about you Anpu can be put back on the shelves of the Akashic Library. I’m at a point where such knowledge can’t explain who you really are. You surprise me with another aspect that’s maddening and alluring.
How far must I walk in search of you? Quite far it seems by the dreams you send. Is it you or my own yearnings projecting such fantasies? Is it you and or your High Priest who walks the highways of my inner self? She, my other self, calls you His Nibs. A figure being constant in both our lives, in plain view and elusive, just out of reach. The nomad that I’ve become senses the spirit of the lone jackal haunting the desert wastes and places between places. When did you become totem, fetish and eventual divinity? When did you emerge from being four-leg to two-leg, a phantasm waiting in the hind brain for millennia? We’ve glimpsed your presence near our camp fires, waiting and assessing.
I squint my eyes and see your figure silhouetted against the horizon, a mirage shimmering in the fading light. This desolate place tests mettle, seeks out our resilience, immerses us in silence. The silence of the Universe and within ourselves. Many pitfalls hide in such places, they amplify our fears and dark imaginings. Demons and jinns haunt the lonely tracks of this desert-scape, as do great Set and Anpu. They come when called and then melt into nothingness once the task has been accomplished. Perhaps best not to dwell on what’s passed, to call such things into being serves no purpose.
He raises the uas sceptre, symbol of divine power and emblem of authority. A signal to follow and follow I do. The power flows around, over and through me. His footsteps are clearly visible in the sand and I wickedly place my feet in them. On and on they disappear up dunes and through barren valleys. My sight wavers for a moment as fear creeps towards the heart. To perish now would negate all that’s been endured and experienced. Yet, he’s not going to allow me to relinquish life and breath now. Blindness of the spiritual kind leaves me temporarily lost, then, I see the world through his eyes. All aren’t black and white, all aren’t different shades of colour, all are a multitude of universes. I see through bone and blood, flesh and thoughts. Memory is touched deeply and laid to sleep. Stars and comets fly past, the ancient Ones peer remotely at life crawling from the slime and flying to the heavens.
We, the god and I breathe life upon the unilluminated and lost upon life’s path. We initiate those ready to see with true sight, unafraid in their humility, naked in spirit and hope. We glimpse a doorway in the distance. The words upon it are indistinct, still indistinct even when we stand before it. My sight becomes my own, then the words speak to me.