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This is an excerpt from the Egyptian Book of the Dead (the Book of Going Forth by Day) CLXXV: Hail to Temu (the chapter on not dying a second time); translation unknown.
I ran across this bit in a Stargate SG-1 fanfic about six or seven years ago. I was sinking into a deep depression at the time, and it resonated with me, so much that I remembered it years later, without even having it written down.
What manner of land is this unto which I have come? It hath not water, it hath not air; it is black as the blackest night, and men wander helplessly therein. In it a man cannot live in quietness of heart, nor may the longings of love be satisfied therein. But let peace be given to me instead of water and air and the satisfying of the longings of love. Let quietness of heart be given unto me instead of cakes and ale. O grant thou unto me a path whereover I may pass in peace...
Speaking of depression! Jack Spicer, "For Mac."
A dead starfish on a beach
He has five branches
Representing the five senses
Representing the jokes we did not tell each other
Call the earth flat
Call other people human
But let this creature lie
Flat upon out senses
Like a love
Prefigured in the sea
That died.
And went to water
All the oceans
Of emotion. All the oceans of emotion are full of such fish
Why
Is this dead one of such importance?
Cheery, yes?
I ran across this bit in a Stargate SG-1 fanfic about six or seven years ago. I was sinking into a deep depression at the time, and it resonated with me, so much that I remembered it years later, without even having it written down.
What manner of land is this unto which I have come? It hath not water, it hath not air; it is black as the blackest night, and men wander helplessly therein. In it a man cannot live in quietness of heart, nor may the longings of love be satisfied therein. But let peace be given to me instead of water and air and the satisfying of the longings of love. Let quietness of heart be given unto me instead of cakes and ale. O grant thou unto me a path whereover I may pass in peace...
Speaking of depression! Jack Spicer, "For Mac."
A dead starfish on a beach
He has five branches
Representing the five senses
Representing the jokes we did not tell each other
Call the earth flat
Call other people human
But let this creature lie
Flat upon out senses
Like a love
Prefigured in the sea
That died.
And went to water
All the oceans
Of emotion. All the oceans of emotion are full of such fish
Why
Is this dead one of such importance?
Cheery, yes?
