Hail Set
By Theokleia
Hail Set!
You come to me in the hot fury of the desert
In my mouth dry with fear
In the lightning-fast death-strike
Hail Set!
Your great strength carries you over the deserted wastes,
Your strength inspires me!
God of outside things, foreign things,
All the strangeness seen in the mirror-world of mirage,
You awe me! You awe me!
Hail Set!
Southerner!
Thunderer!
Bringer of rain!
Red One!
Hail, Hail Hail!
A poem to Set
by Joan Lansberry
I leave the gnarled streets,
I wander alone until I come to
sparse sands and spiky trees
and come to find you in the desert,
far away from the buzzing crowds in the cities,
and behold your majesty.
Thundering loudly on the hilltop,
you proudly shout, declaring
your existence.
Did they cast you out,
or did you favor these baked lands?
You reign still and as I look further
I find a sweet oasis and kind shade from the sun,
as I seek audience with you.
You gaze upon me
with eyes both fierce and gentle,
and a hint of a smile.
Power is your domain,
your pulse, your joy of being,
not random, uncontrolled, but held within.
There is a look in your eyes of recognition
as you hand me a scepter
bearing your likeness.
I take it and feel tingling power.
From my hand, I then feel changes
that permeate my entire being.
You strengthen my spine.
and give volume to my voice.
Diaphragm grows muscle
and I can throw my words far.
You smile with pride
as you look upon me,
and lock eyes with me,
bid me know that pride,
joy of my coming into being.
What secrets you teach me,
I may not speak of,
but oh, the dance is lovely,
as we whirl around.
Such fierce rejoicing on this exultant night,
and triumph!
Set's Power
by Joan Lansberry
"I am that I am,
I exist,
I roar,
I AM!"
(Roaring loudly!)
Who can behold it and still live?
Who can know the power and remain unchanged?
Can you know it surging within you?
"I am that I am,"
(They stole that phrase from me!)
Going down into terror,
into the fiery furnaces of creation itself,
the anvil, the fire, the tempered steel,
terror awaits those who lack understanding.
This is not a one way exit.
Each departs to his own understanding.
Some carry a bit of the fire with them as they go.
Kissed by the flames,
they are changed and have a secret knowledge.
To their own creation, they may apply such as they are able.
Set's Lament
by Phillupus
My brother's bad eyesight
had led to me being feared, reviled.
But what of my wife,
how could she mistake him for me?
It was not anger at him,
but anger at myself for not being better,
for not being different,
for thinking too highly of him I admire.
Each day and night
when I stand guard in the barque
and I see the serpent
that attacks attempting to steal the sun
and I strike back
with pointed spear and am victorious
I slay in myself
what Typhon only dreamed of his anger.
