the blood that drizzles down your wounded arms as you fight with Apophis

it colours the sky in red, a grand birth for Ra

and quietly, like the flying sands, the powerful lord turns away his head and leaves.

he is not invoked in goodness

he is not remembered in prayers

the protector scars himself to prevent the drowning of the sun.

is it enough to give him the epithet great?

call him the strongest, at whose sight the sky shakes?

i shiver not at his intimidating glance, but wish to quiver in a warm embrace

the warrior is a lover equally beautiful, a man whose dance is chaos incarnate

after all, I will call him not just the Greatest, but a Man, in every way

scarlet his soul, crimson in his eyes, hair midnight black,

with a spear in his hand and khopesh in his belt,

the Set animal by his side,

he conquers not just the skies, but me too

he guards not just the sun but my world too

he breathes life into not just our bodies, but our souls too

hail Sutekh, the Primordial Chaos

****

Another poem because it's his bday <3