If you ever need strength, whether to face your fears or just to bring yourself back from the brink of an insane world, try reciting this hymn to the Goddess Sekhmet.
Mine is a heart of Carnelian, crimson as murder on a holy day. Mine is a heart of cornel, the gnarled roots of dogwood and the bursting of flowers. I am the broken wax seal on my lover's letters. I am the phoenix, the fiery sun, consuming and resuming myself. I pace the halls of the underworld. I knock on the doors of death. I walk into the fields to stare at the sun and lie on the green grass, ripe as a fig. The souls of the gods are with me. They hum like flies in my ears. I am I. I will what I will.
Mine is a heart of Carnelian, blood red as the crest of a phoenix.
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