The One Who Sails The Nile


and with a felucca made from the very hands of Kemet, I will baptize You into the waters of Lifebringer Nile that flows the Two Lands, seeding the pertinacious seed.

Sweet inebriation’s wine You shall drink from the vineyards of fertile Sheba and You will cross centuries of history sprinkling your Being with ancient fine dust.

I shall be with You. And as I will be singing legends, myths and secrets, as I will be whispering traditions inspired from mud, sweat and love, your past I will be mapping and I will be initiating my King in his future.

So come …
Styrax, ambergris and cinnamon You will rejoice in the paths of Alexandria, while on papyrus, stone and parchment I will imprint your fresh kiss. In the western harbor, steady nets You shall cast to find me and capture my body, raw matter that wishes to be embraced with lust, body that if You forayed it, the savor of a fondled lotus will emerge. In the Lighthouse your darkness shall be illumined and You will welcome the heating indolence that gently cuddles all of your Alexandrian nights.

The tween beloved sisters, Damietta and Rosetta are called, the last one hiding in her womb the key to the hieroglyphic enigma, white triangular sail I will cast for your grace and the heady wind will sent my felucca into the fertile embrace of the victualer Nile.

Waters of mystagogue will bring us to Giza, with the uninfluenced from the fear of time pyramids. From the beginning I will introduce You to Horus of the Horizon and the androgynous figure that mortals say is the Sphinx. A temple is hidden in her legs and may we spent there the remaining hours till the dawn comes. Buried, well hidden secrets, will stay sleepless with us and they shall be revealed, there, in the sanctum of your secrets until You accept me in your embrace.

Come and You will touch the alabaster from Memphis and from the pure lustrous your hands will be sweetened like your smile. A statue Triad, yours, the fair-faced creator Ptah and the warlike Sekhmet the lion head will welcome You, just before You face your royal self, carved in a colossal stone, but that is what I desire. To remember Who You Are. And when my will comes into flesh, the memories of a past life will color your crimson face, like the purple rock that rises from the kingdom of Seth, the red desert of Dahshur, the once so called Desret.

Come with me and You ’ll see the eastern shore spreading in front to You. Its land I will let you tramp. On an unseen, ancient, bizarre land, You shall face the body of Bastet, the cat that rests in the land of Bubastis, while the gifts that will be given to You the night You ’ll meet the lust and the love of mine, will be two golden rings and one from lapis lazuli. Hold them and honor the desert wildcat.

Come and from far You will see the oasis they call Fayum, You know, the one that in its brownish colors was hiding grieving Roman faces, and once, Herodotus descried its desert a labyrinth of charm where thousands crocodiles became its guardians, but now the labyrinth is gone in the desert and only us are left ... The night, with the rise of Seth’s decans, I will offer You but myself, a talisman of jasper with a carved invocation so that You ’ll never forget the moments I made You mine. Hours later, my dawning kiss will rise You and in front of your tireless hands the fruits of the Trees of Life will be spread, that are endlessly born in the all-green oasis. Your hunger I will trick with sycamore and dates, hoping for You to remember Who You Are.

Listen to the myth that the wave of Nile recounts. It brings us to the devouting waters of Oxyrhynchus where I will rise the body of the Lord of the Dead and I will demand as payment from the guardians of the Sun Ra’s ship, twelve starry nights with the Moon. Come and ready I shall have a ring of faience with carnelian red beads to give to You with a worshiping devotion, so that looking it nostalgically and You ’ll reminisce the Nile.

Come to the place where Thoth and Hermes were worshiped as one, in Hemenou or Hermoupolis of the western shore of the Nile. Eight only hours we shall live, for this God is worshiped as the Lord of the Sacred Eighth. Eight gods, hours Eight, and You as my King, in a place where a beaten old dirt road is leading us into deserted catacombs. Blue scarab I will wear in your neck joining the two sanctities together. Heper he was once called and he was the god of transformation. So You will be transformed in The One You Must Be.

Come… In Abydos You shall live the bloody Osirian myth and if You are lucky, in the cenotaph of the Lord of Death, maybe once again You will face the risen by me Osiris. You will encounter the old gods, Ptah, Isis and Horus and at dusk time, You will see your name in the List of the Abydian Kings. Loudly You will read it for I ask You to remember Who You Are.

Next to Abydos, in Dendera, a love goddesses You shall meet. Long ago, You use to call her Hathor. You will kiss the statue of Hapy and if now You are not aware of that god, I tell You it is the Nile. Offer him the sonter we ’ll have with us, sweet and penetrating incense. The grace of the god will inhabit in your heart and the memories of his waters will flood your mind. In the early hours of dawn, the stories that waited for so many years to be told, will spurt like tears from inside me and these tears You ’ll drink, to fight and to win the scorpionlike goddess, to quench your thirst from the desert heat.

Come and in the Upper Thebes, Waset You used to call them, You will celebrate the Opet and You will dance all night, filling the ancient starry sky with a primitive arousing scent, brought from the land off Punt …?... Who knows… Waset You called them long ago and your fourth son You named him after them, the one that was not born by me, but he was your most beloved one. Kha-Em-Waset You call him when You sleep and sink in your dream’s elusive truth. Not much further, there is a temple built by You. Do You remember the boat of Amun coming out of his temple so that the world will be reborn? In the Land of the First Time You will remember, even if your memory is stubbornly mistaken. Hold my hand my love and come to pass the center pylon, the one in the left, harboring a monolithic obelisk to see the red stone, to inflame your eyes, to inflame your hands, to inflame your lips, to remember who I am, to remember Who You Are, to remember your deeds and to be convinced that only for You I weave the truth.

Come with me to Ipet Shut or to Karnak, if You prefer. In its avenues like a joyful child You will run around the stone stoas, while one by one the Sphinxes will applause the strength of your winged feet, leading your steps to a high obelisk that its peak touches the sky. The blear will find us in the Great Subcolumnous Stoa where I will unfold stories of the old, sad echoes of past times and when your eyes will embrace all the place, a skillful hand will carve an amulet from winelike amethyst to give it to You as a gift and to remember the royal linen I laid on the earth to accept your body into a peaceful sleep. As soon as the sun begins his journey, I will lead You to the South and taking water from the sacramental lake, You will spread some in your eyes, to open, to see more clear, to remember Who You Are.

Come… The sun may be burning even more but I set sail to the West to reach the shore of Thebes. Here lays a necropolis filled with tombs of kings and queens. Dead soils, barren lands, whispering through the blowing of the wind the vanity of life that lies buried in the Houses of the Thousand Years.

Come with me in the mountains that hide the sacred bodies and if You hear the saddened ode of Memnon, do not be afraid, for it is the free Boreas kissing the golden rock and together they moan from the loneliness of the titanic Colossals, grim sleepless guards of the deadly valley. Only I and they are left silent witnesses of your past life.

Come… And in the Valley of the Kings You will not be just two letters and a number. Some named You Kappa Beta 7, but only I know your true name. All that is left is for You to remember. Here You will listen to the luscious silences, You will meet the seven Hathor with the red sacred threads that the Greeks knew them as Fates, You will breathe land and eternity and when You find yourself in the darkness of your own gloomy tomb, maybe your grey eyes will wet in the Twelfth Hour of the Night, but your loyal servant, a small green statue made of copper that once we use to call Ushabti, will be there to steal your tear. I will be there too, to steal the hours You destined for the night. One more story will come out of my lips, for the heretic that worshiped only the Sun, a profane apostasy than incurred the worst of punishments, the extinguish of his name. Breaking the rocks, erasing the carvings, demolishing temples and the dead body of the cursed Akhenaton buried in Tel el Amarna. I won’t take You up there, our time is fleeting and leaving like the last breath of the dying man and You must remember Who You Are before we reach the end.

Come in the midnight where You will hear the calling of the Land of Truth. In Set Maat You will meet the sculptor, the painter and the stonemason, that, with a rock they were calling Stone of Light, were carving limestone having always in mind the Book of Breathings and the Book of the Dead. Carving of Eternity is what You need to remember. And this journey with the felucca is carving your future.

The waters are flowing calmly and we are gazing the Upper Egypt. Do You remember the White Crown You were wearing whenever You were reaching these lands endings? Come and when You see Apolinopolis or Edfu if You please, run there to the throne of Horus to seat transformed into a proud falcon and then, flying high, You will reach Elephantine, and in a lonely nilometer You will measure what I feel for You.

Taseti You will call the outskirts, till slowly the memories will become totally all yours. When the night comes, I will lie next to You and rare ivory I will offer to You, with the sacramental eye of Uadjet to shed light to the darkness of your thoughts, to look at it every day that goes and remember that You crossed the Nile with me. Your sleepy glance will embrace the isle of Philae, the one they now call Pearl of the Black Earth and with this immaculate vision You will sleep. There is a temple there devoted to Isis and her son Harpocrates. The silence of the son I do not dare to keep, staying awake and close to You until the next morning, my lips lovingly are whispering to You Words Of Power, Words Of Magic, to remember Who You Are, while You are asleep and dreaming. Along with the kiss, I exhale just for You invigorating breath, I give You to hold a sacred tablet board from reddish porphyrite to hold it in your hand, to remember your past. To become once more the all-powerful and glorious One Who Sails The Nile.

Come and bathe in the waters of the First Waterfall, as You are traveling in the deep, vehement waters of the Blue Nile, and days after, nights after, with glorious steps, again You will foot the lands of Nubia where with our bodies next one another, will give one more battle in Kadesh and victorious we ’ll flood Abu Sibel once again with danger.

Come, this is the time that embraced we will cross the Gates of Uat. Look at the desert; it lays victoriously its sea. The windswept sand competes the flaming gold, its curves reminds You those of my body, your gaze is unforgiving, my lips ravenous.

Make yours this land, make me yours…
I am not an illusion; I am the Fertile Land, untouched for centuries, with veins that the desert sand and You flow through them.

My last gift is the Snake. A Snake joined right above the forehead with gold. It is Uraeus made from the precious gold of the Gods flesh. Khepresh You called it thousands of years ago and it was the crown You were wearing to unite the Two Lands, the Upper and Lower Egypt. You remember, I see it in your untamable, instinctive look.

Your eyes hug my whole entity, the unfading, hardened rock, the steep colossal cliffs, the sun that dresses the naked mounts with flaming and blooded light, just before he retires to give his place to Nut.

You Remember What You Are.
You remember Who You Are 

You came… 
And with a felucca made from the very hands of Kemet I baptized You into the waters of lifebringer Nile who flows the Two Lands, seeding the pertinacious seed.

You came… 
And became Ramesses and I became Nefertari and, worshiping the Sun God, your body turned into hard granite, ductile limestone turned mine, and we let the shines of Ra to take us with them, so that we can make again and again and again this magnificent journey

in time, beyond time, back in time

but always on our felucca.

©2012 Constance Lapsati ~ Lotus and Papyrus Flowers, Pen Creations, Storytelling

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Constance Lapsati - Author