She sat in her white robe.

It was tied solely at the corner of her left shoulder.

She was wearing nothing underneath.

She plucked the strings,

Of a harp,

The angelic sounds,

so perfect,

It was more than math.

This math quickly turned into passionate love making.

The instrument stood solid between her legs,

While her hands gently touched

the monochord instrument

with such sweet caresses,

they produced such sweet vibrations,

they electrified her entire body to the core.

A feeling so profound,

Her soul moaned with pleasure.

And in that very instance,

She heard her soul sing.

A melody of words which she desperately anguished to write.

They were so full of passion; creation.

A tune reminding her that she had nothing to fear,

For the desires and pleasures that were awakening within her,

Were simply memories;

Memories that were here to set her free.

And so, resolved,

she stopped for a brief moment,

got up, and walked over to the wall.

And as if in Ancient Egypt,

and so that her words would never be forgotten,

She carved in black bold ink:

“TO JUDGE THYSELF IS A JUDGMENT IN ITSELF.”

And with that,

She sat down,

legs wide open,

placed the instrument confidently between her legs,

and allowed the music to become her.

~gg

Inspired by an Egyptian Poem called “The Harpeer’s Song for Inherkawy” from the National Geographic News:

 

The Harper’s Song for Inherkhawy (Excerpt)

So seize the day! hold holiday!
Be unwearied, unceasing, alive
you and your own true love;
Let not the heart be troubled during your
sojourn on Earth,
but seize the day as it passes!