Our Beautiful Son Of Ra.

Our beautiful Son of Ra.

Etsy

I fell from Heaven.

I lost my stars, my precious creations, that beautiful nebula.

I lost my faith in God, my smile, my light. I felt unworthy, violated, scared.

It hurt. Not just the fall but everything that came after that. And everything I lost in the process.

But none of that could prepare me for my second fall. The most frightening one. When I fell for you.

And none of that hurt me more than losing you.

Ah! Wasn't this uhm... awkward? See video for reference, pics aren't as awful, lol. As someone pointed out on YT, their body language says it all. Ouch.

🏆 Just because it’s awards season and I’m seeing a bajillion postings of stars with their awards… 🏆

✨nostalgic throwback here of Paul & Artie winning for Bridge Over Troubled Water✨

Simon & Garfunkel at the 13th Annual Grammy Awards, March 16, 1971, Los Angeles, CA

Tagging my s&g peeps: @parsley-sage-rosemary-n-thyme @cwwonder @tailorsfaceandhands @streetlights-all-turn-blue @times-up-alone-tonight @unofficialpersonsblog @alexies101 @in-restless-walks @froyo-ravioli

✨Let me know if you want to be on my tag list for S&G posts 😍 … and/or my James Dean posts too btw 🫠 … ✨

Of course it was, that's the way love should be (kudos if you get the reference 🎶)

Was it really necessary to stand so closely to one another?

Dua Wadjet, Wep Tawy 🙏

Praise Wadjet, the one who delimits the Lands

Praise thee, Great of Magic

Praise the Protector of Horus

Praise the Noble Serpent who flowed forth from the Eye

Thank you @solostinmysea , I needed a good cry to start my week <3

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.