Six or seven years ago I was laid down by some bronchitis and experiencing high fever. I had just received the large coffee table book "Luxor and the Valley of the Kings" (ordered on Amazon), and was reading it in bed, before falling asleep with the book open at the aerial photo of the temple of Medinet Habu. That night I dreamed that my body was the temple. The next morning the fever had broke and I wrote down the dream as a poem. I just found it in my online email archives. Enjoy!
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I am the Temple and the Temple is in me,
Alive and breathing, alert and conscious.
The towering pylons of my gateway heave as I draw air,
While in the great court of appearances,
Lotiform columns dance around my middle.
My halls are vibrant with the spells of long forgotten Gods,
Potent talismans, and irrefutable truths.
I am Temple.
Perfectly ordained and symmetrical, sacred architecture turned into flesh.
I am Maat.
A great tremor brings down my hypostyle halls,
Uproots my flagpoles and reveals my crypts.
I cry: 'Why are thou destroying my walls, laying waste to my sanctuary?'
Fear not, for you are the seed of new worlds!
Burning wind scatters my stones.
The exquisitely carved reliefs of my sacred processions
Float away with increasing speed,
Gods of stone and precious inlays forever broken,
No single block ever to find its match again.
I cry: 'Why are thou dispersing my bones, crushing my head, turning me to dust?'
Fear not, for you are a new beginning!
The fire is in my eyes and my eyes are fire.
Great swirls of burning aether glow with the colors of cosmic birth.
I reach out to embrace the void,
Each finger separated by eons of time,
Grasping matter yet to exist.
Thus the Temple expands into the realm of the Gods, filling space as it creates it.
I am the Temple and the Temple is in me.
I cry.
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