12/29/2019
Floyd
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The rose in the mausoleum of Heka
In an overgrown garden, forgotten and silent, behind dilapidated gates not far from the Nile lies the entrance to a mausoleum, the hieroglyphs of Heka in the entrance room, through which the dead speak to the gods, which illustrates medical rites with wounded snakes to the present day, also portrayed as the creator of things. Hekate the name of the female deity with the same function and ability.
When you enter the cool mausoleum, incense first blows up to you, dusty and heavy from the cellar depths over candle-lit damp steps. There is also the scent of the patchouli of the dead, but smeared with nuances of amber and roses, which, in a wild struggle, give the impression that they are trying to suffocate each other. A dusty hour wandering through threads that you guilelessly pick up wherever they lead, you descend into the vaults and find that there is no longer a fight here.
Here in the darkness a rose begins to bloom, its blue-violet light to glow, nourishing itself from spicy honey, which flows in tough brooks recurrently from solidified resins underneath, pouring over stone or earth around the roots, this shining honey rose. So Heka/te makes them magically appear, they sparkle for hours, the incense wafts away, the glowing colours of the amber shimmer in the blue-violet, almost fruity streaks of the dark-scented blossom, which now lies on your skin like a tattoo and only slowly fades, fades and blows away in warm amber blush.
When you enter the cool mausoleum, incense first blows up to you, dusty and heavy from the cellar depths over candle-lit damp steps. There is also the scent of the patchouli of the dead, but smeared with nuances of amber and roses, which, in a wild struggle, give the impression that they are trying to suffocate each other. A dusty hour wandering through threads that you guilelessly pick up wherever they lead, you descend into the vaults and find that there is no longer a fight here.
Here in the darkness a rose begins to bloom, its blue-violet light to glow, nourishing itself from spicy honey, which flows in tough brooks recurrently from solidified resins underneath, pouring over stone or earth around the roots, this shining honey rose. So Heka/te makes them magically appear, they sparkle for hours, the incense wafts away, the glowing colours of the amber shimmer in the blue-violet, almost fruity streaks of the dark-scented blossom, which now lies on your skin like a tattoo and only slowly fades, fades and blows away in warm amber blush.
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