L'aura del Campo

Children of Ra [137]

Children of Ra

It's time. They hobble under the waxing Sun,
their skin cold-hardened, turned to stone.
They whisper through cracked lips: soon, soon —
a quiet chorus, to entice the Orb's
return, entrap it with their nets, to tap
its rays, feel warmth return to depths within.
It's time. It's time. Their crescendo begins
to crack their outer skin. Inner embers lit,
they blaze anew. Sloughing lifeless sheaths,
eyes glow and supple arms rise to praise their Sun.
They beam, beacons of a New Age that's begun.

© Kåre Enga (15.juin.2017) [174.137] /30:15.2/



Earlier version kept here for reference:

Children of Ra

It's time. They hobble under the waxing Sun,
their skin cold-hardened, turned to stone.
They barely whisper through cracked lips, soon,
soon, in a quiet chorus meant to entice the Orb's
return, to entrap it with their nets, to tap its rays,
to feel warmth enter the depths within.
It's time. It's time. Their crescendo begins
to crack their outer skin. Their inner embers lit,
they blaze anew. Casting off their lifeless hide,
they raise faces, supple arms, to praise their Sun.
They begin to glow as a new Age has begun.