Serqet is scorpions and spiders, those creatures who sting and bite, who crawl through the darkest and most cramped of spaces, whose presence is ultimately beneficial—so long as you’re willing to watch your step. In the light of day she is bees and wasps, beetles and flies, the workers who keep the world turning, without whom humanity could not exist, however distasteful we may find them. She is sandy deserts, citrus trees, cacti; life flourishing in the harshest of places. Ironwood and creosote. Mesquite honey and a javelina skeleton bleached white by the sun.
Hethert-Nut is all that is on one hand ordinary, and on the other hand majestic and strange. Horses, trees, open sky, oceans, pouring rain. Dolphins echolocating, a pack of wolves chasing down an elk, a heron in flight, the laughter of a hyena, the singing of whales, the beating of a hummingbird’s wings. The explosion of juice when you bite into a ripe piece of fruit, and the insects who eat away the fallen ones, returning their nutrients to the soil. The warmth of the sun and the brightness of the moon, but also the deepest dark in between the stars. A pinprick of light, far in the distance, reminding you that you are not alone.
Mut is lioness, bear, and cougar; she is the protective mother shielding her cubs, the 5 pound queen who makes the local 20 pound tom regret ever so much as looking at her kittens. She is the crack of thunder that warns of an oncoming storm. She is the roaring of a wounded animal as it threatens to destroy any who would harm it and the things it wants to protect. And yet she is also the calmness of a still pool of deep, clear water, the serenity of grasses rustling in a breeze, the melting of ice on a mountaintop in spring. She is the food chain, the ecosystem, the water cycle; the sense that everything that exists is perfect, an expression of the order of the divine.
Nehebkau is the cool dampness of a cave, the sound of a snake skimming over leaf litter. He is whispers in the dark, the steady dripping of water as it erodes away stone in a process that takes thousands upon thousands of years. He is the echo of a dark and empty space that nevertheless sounds like it’s speaking your own words back to you. He is the powerful coils of the deadly constrictor, the fire of venom blooming through your veins, an ambassador of those creatures who run on instinct, who cannot help being what they are. The lizard who scurries into the crack in the wall when a shadow passes over it, and the part of being human that means knowing you are no different.
gummygunk
2087
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
stormborns
theartofmadeline
