Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney sweepers come to dust.....

N is for Necropolis.....

City of the dead.
House for the dearly departed.
A place for souls to gather once mortal breath no longer fills the lungs of the living.

There has always been a fascination with death that offers both fear and hope. Man has longed to know what lies for them after the end of life. And, not being able to 'know', man has turned to hoping for what lies for them after death.

So much attention has been paid to what might be after life that great houses and cities of the dead have been created. If we are to live after death in the manner to which we lived while still alive, then great care and attention must be paid... or, perhaps, better attention must be paid. At least, that was the method used by the Ancient Egyptians, who took such great pains to ensure their after-life selves would be well provided for.

The Ancient Egyptians viewed their life after death as the ultimate paradise to strive for. So much was their belief in a virtuous life leading to a wonderful afterlife, that when they were faced with death, they prepared themselves for the weighing of their heart. If their heart balanced against maat (truth and justice)--represented by a feather-- they were granted a place in the Afterlife. If, however, it weighed more than the feather, their heart was eaten by Ammit, the gobbler, and they ceased to exist at all--- a prospect that terrified Egyptians.... a prospect that, perhaps, terrifies us all.

Yet, there is no better representation of the houses of the dead than an ossuary. For what better way to build the houses of the dead than by using the dead themselves....

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered...

Bitter Honey

Weaving dreams of beguiling gold, a future's price for happiness. What secrets do you, determined, hold? asks the summer wind's soft caress. A guarded name, a hidden hope. Spinning wheels clutching time, grasping straw that falls away, What dreams may come, we soon may find, won't recall at end of day. A cherished life, a memory lost.

A million lives, beneath a single sky.....

Though our feet leave different prints,our tongues sound different words, there's a mirrored rhythm in the beating of our hearts. Though born in different worlds, our eyes sharpened 'neath different moons, there's an unspoken truth in the warmth of our touch. We may walk in different strides and dream different dreams, we may speak in different voices, maybe swim in different streams. It's plain to see, when dark night falls, as all the stars shine through, that underneath it all, there's no difference 'tween me and you.

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

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