Landing Midway

Ra rises, as I've crashed landed amid the rapidly diminishing display of slumber-lights, and the onward rush of daylight, barely missing a lumbering lunar orb on my downward path. Minutes are fleeing the scene before a conscious thought, bounced across neural synapses, manages to lift me from the rattled stupor accompanying my concussed impact. "OOh gggaw. Uh, geeeee...," forcibly heaves up from a clenched gullet, and drags itself across my tongue into the steaming ozone layer of space engulfing a throbbing pate. Lazy lids seem seamed together in rebellious deference to cerebral alerts for assessment of damages accompanied by conspiring defiance from musculoskeletal remains feigning paralysis. Another lapse of measured moments, and the first revelations of perception enter as topsy-turvy images cast on retinal walls, instantly interpreted by dizzied cells attempting to create a translation and elicit a reaction from this grounded lump. Resistance is the first to retort, aiding unrespondent limbs, but something resembling reason demands more. Inner mechanics engage sore movement, elevating the flesh above the collision site, as trembling rocks the two larger extremities I rely upon for upright support. Collapse threatens, unless latent reserves are mustered to the front. Adrenal, bugle calls marshal just enough reinforcement to maintain an upward line. What was first perceived as twinkling darkness reveals itself now in a dusky veil rippling about me and lifting edges, where something likened to iridescent hued blobs blink on... and... off. Leaving the temptation of confined definition, I wander in and out of the dance as both partner and voyeur. The flash of experience that may have preceded this balleted awareness no longer exists. Derision, calamity, aching cries swirling into anonymity, are replaced by strengthening clarity, as lithesome tingles emanate from my center. At last erect, and clinging to a fragile steadiness awareness tweaks forth an idea, a concept of something familiar...M...O...R...N...I...N...G, symbolic notations, a perception of this moment. Mor...n...ing? Morn...ing! Mourning and elation push my mass forward, competing for their place. Now, an eagerness for relief of a bursting at my groin fights with the reluctance of fatigued tissues. The rising pressure wins and pushes my body more quickly towards a shining receptacle, hidden within a sacred shrine of cleansing and elimination. It is the latter ritual which draws me in; which I enter into with practiced familiarity. Relief tingles up my spine and shivers through my limbs as I leave the last drops of collected waters in the urn. And so my experience continues through a haze of domestic rituals: cleansing, costuming, feasting, and cleansing some more. The magic ultimately brings a lucidity that fills the upper sphere and determination leads me to the moment of emergence from my cocoon-like domicile, a safe-hold to which I will later return. When the radiant beams of Ra return to their resting place, I will return to another set of rites and struggles that will eventually thrust me into the realms of slumber from which I have recently emerged.