To my emotive Seshat , the goddess of cosmic intuition and writing
You were born in the wrong time.
You should have been born in the age of
Or the age of Scorpion kings in Egypt
In the age before pharaohs which went to mystery
Sometime before mythology.
If you were in Troy when the Mycenae waged war,
Perhaps you would be the one
You and I are Thoth and Seshat,
We follow each other through centuries and times,
Realism forces „formality of the movement”;
Formality of human movement…
Unscrewing of the universe… scene in a drama.
We are not made for short-term dramas;
Gives us longer era.
You are the lady from Poe’s stories;
Ligeia – the alchemist
Reincarnation of Isis, goddess of mysterious knowledge
Of the teacher and male student in that story.
And the ancient Greek dramaturgy…
There is, my lady… true depth.
Aesculus, Sophocles, и Euripides…
„Oedipus Rex” by Sophocles,
the syndrome which destroyed even the lineage of Obrenovic
Dear* „proxy” mama
She too was Seshat, but nobody knows it
For the astronomer
Nut, the bed spreader of the universe
Is Seshat who searches for her Thoth.
Dream that I send you
Metaphysics of one century into another
And we shall find each other, does not matter
In which time.
What matters is
That we were inside the same moment and the same time,
In the garden of splitting ways.
Seshat, under various spellings, was the ancient Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, and writing. She was seen as a scribe and record keeper, and her name means she who scrivens (i.e. she who is the scribe), and is credited with inventing writing.
* Draga (meaning Dear or Precious in English also known as Queen Draga, was the queen and wife of King Aleksandar Obrenović of the Kingdom of Serbia.
Thus spoke my mother.
Seek no longer the soil
Forgotten among the trees
Under which you were born
In the chosen night
When the grasshoppers flew away from the terraces
Into the heap of voices filled with hatred
Directed towards me
Not even a sound to flicker within me
How could I have known
About the other side of maps
Are they coming yet to take me
Rooted in the last morning of a bullet
I arise barefoot
The sea is frightened
Like ground from thunder