great one Anubis, lord beneath our feet, weigh my heart to be
a feather, kin of truth, thus spare me from the jaws of Ammit.
dare risk lying to your heart. the measure of measures.
from earthen feet to skyward face, how horizons circumnavigate.
how dreams are dreaming us.
living feels like dying. another lie on the fire. do I know
less than I did before.
here. another tributary.
if you observe, if you listen to a secret long enough, truth is revealed.
one priest says.
we are born into lies. we face into the shadow of Light.
with death we turn facing into Light. all truth made visible.
wisdom here observed.
how many times have I already been eaten alive. countless I suspect.
is it fair. is it right. that we be judged by all creatures great and small.
I think yes.
what does language think of me. have I been kind. considerate.
which words have known my tongue, my lips. like water moves. like waves
reflect.
a universe surrenders everything. stories painting.
one fingerprint.
About Anubis. The Egyptian god of the dead was instrumental in passing into the afterlife. To the Egyptians, the heart rather than brain, was the source of human wisdom and the center of emotions and memory, thereby considered the most important of internal organs. Because of this the heart was left inside the deceased’s body, later to reveal the person’s true character. In the “weighing of the heart” rite by Anubis, god of the dead, the heart is compared to one feather of the goddess Maat, who personifies order, truth and what is right. If it weighed more than the feather, it was immediately consumed by the crocodile diety Ammit. All this reflected their real Nile life and the hazards faced.
While not a spiritual follower of their mythos, that phrase “the weighing of the heart” very much appeals to me. What a poetic and provocative way to express “judgment”. Egyptians were both very poetic and practical I think.
Another of their symbolic rituals when installing a Pharaoh into their tomb, the last step as all the attendants departed, was to place a watered plate of rice seeds near the sarcophagus. Thus, in the dark, the seeds would germinate making a last real symbol of “life” for the dead king. A rather beautiful and intimate ritual.
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 
I like the heart as a source of wisdom rather than the brain too.
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Thank you, yes. Those folk had a lot of poetry in them. Suppose I think, yep, the head is our focal point, but thoughts, feelings, they sure take home as heart. So strong strong interconnection whatever the biology says. I can be content to have it both ways.
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those end lines are magical like lapping water
p.s. I think the weighing of the heart measures loving kindness – how much we exhibit it (or not) in this world is surely the judgement – I fear I may be meat for Ammit
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Taken as poetic lexicon is’about as far down that path I go. In my universe, seeing how you see, I think none but merit surrounds your feet. Neither do I hear any ticking clock in the alligators tummy, so I think we’re good. Thanks for making me smile…
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“from your lips to God’s ears” as the saying goes, Neil!
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