Dua Sekhmet.

I was praying to Sekhmet last night, and She told me that I should make Her a praise. I sat down earlier today to work on it and got curbstomped and told that free verse was not acceptable.

So I wrote Her a sonnet.

O Lady of the piercing, burning gaze
Flame-wreathed, flame-warded, desert lioness
Whose fearsome vengeance stalks the heart transgressed
Against the law; Whose brilliant shining rays
Allow no flaw to go unmarked. Ablaze,
Her cauterising touch is a caress,
A transformation shaping a distress
Into a strength within Her hands upraised.
How fierce Her countenance, how sure Her will,
How deep Her hunger and how broad Her reach,
How powerful Her voice, how sweet Her breath,
How bottomless Her knowledge and Her skill,
How relentless the discipline She'll teach.
All praise, Sekhmet, who holds both life and death.

Thanks to fyrekat for her list of epithets and titles, without which I'd have had a much harder time writing that.

Posted to my journal, dua_sekhmet, and the KOL board.

Writing notes.

Section 74: 585 words. Done.
Section 75: 1177 words. Done.

Today: 1762 total. (Plus the sonnet to Sekhmet.)

Very strange scene to turn into a seduction, that. Amusing, though.


Winter weather ponder: So we have one window that doesn't open or anything, it's just a few panes of glass at the foot of the stairs. Lennon likes it because he can sit in it and shout at the squirrels.

They're not heat-tight.

This is rendered very obvious when one studies the accumulations of snow against the window.

The drifts are hollow. And the insides of them are ice. The leaked heat from the house melted them and crusted them. I find this very funny, with the humor only moderated by the contemplation of our heating bills.

It's quizdump time!

Because I've hit my post point.
( Silly quizzies. )