“Many things were among her accouterments, in her right hand she held a brazen sistrum, a flat piece curved like a girdle, through which there passed some little rods – and when with her arm she vibrated these triple chords they produced a shrill sharp cry”
~ Apuleius, The Golden Ass
Letting orthodox belief systems go,
rooting in the emerald-green nether lands,
Grey crooked trees and black Raven,
Whirling rouge invisible wind blowing,
dirty golden roses on the ground,
Breathing in I count to ten,
Only the red lines of blood vessels,
moving snapshots of light,
I breath out,
Slowly the dark wooden boat sails on the indigo sea,
The white sail slowly flapping in the salty breeze,
He sits there with his dark skin and darker beard,
Wearing a white kaftan and tight braided cord made of black donkey hair,
He leaned toward the woman dressed in orange,
Wearing the headdress of Hathor,
Then she raised her arms up in the shape of a cup and sang,
“I am eternity,”
Her voice echoed and shimmered golden rays around us,
My heart-felt this and the purple vibrations of laughter.
I opened my eyes to the colors of my backyard.
hear the shrill in this song… that is the sound of brazen sistrum !!