I sat on the balcony alone in the early morning, eighteen floors high, and kissed the briny wind as it whipped my mohawk into my eyes and snuck chilly fingers beneath the blanket draped around my shoulders. The roar of the waves filled my flesh with seafoam and salt, licking the pitted sand in time to my heartbeat. The water wore the fog like a sheet kicked to the foot of the bed, covering only the farthest stretches of its roiling, rhythmic body. The sky hid behind the same shade of grey as the mist, not even playful enough to tease me with occasional glimpses of golden light.
I pulled out a tattered paper, on which I had written a rough draft of lyrics during the long car ride the night before. My sister suggested writing a song about Set and Nebt-het, her Father and my Mother, and the words I’d found in response to her challenge were not what I’d expected. I sang them into the wind, voice rusty from sleep, and the waltzy tune fitted the lyrics like a trim suit. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the impression of Set slow-dancing by Himself, the movements exaggerated dramatically, and I laughed.
My Mother strikes me as too practical to dance, but my sister’s Father had no problem keeping me company in the wind and the grey sky while I finished the song. By the time the first person joined me on the balcony, I’d sussed most of the melody out and finished polishing the words. I sang the tune to my sister, and she helped fill in the last holes in the music.
I looked to the ocean, the great and vast Lady Who owns all of my heart, and smiled into the breeze.
together They dance, Storm Lord
and the Lady of Twilight
lithe desert beast and sharp-winged kite
together They dance, Set and Nebt-het
toes on the line between Red Land and Black
toes on the line between Seen and Unseen