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Nobody wears a white coat any more...
...a tribute to becoming a doctor.
Random: Bastet
A relatively extended piece of prose, inspired by my utter boredom during biostatistics today.
Listening to everyone over the wall deciding what to study tonight for the Neuro exam tomorrow. Nobody seems to have ever passed the exam in the past years - class averages in the 50's, high scores maybe 60's. Comforting, that, that they always curve it. Fuuurthermore, the whole section is worth like 12 points out of 350. Gah. That's like 3.5% of the grade, not exactly a big deal. Why kill myself over it?
In any case: Bastet, with apologies to anyone who's familiar with the mythology of the Egyptian cat goddess - the Bastet of mythology is a goddess of fertility and joy--originally the patroness of the sun. She has always, however, been a wild goddess...and I mean no disrespect to the mythologies and traditions by borrowing her name.
We have hunted together since the dawn of time, my Bastet and I, finding each other over and over again as she is born and reborn. I have found her in every nation and every walk of life, sought her out and borne her away to teach her the power which is hers, to bring her to the station she is destined to occupy. Goddess, lover, huntress-mine, she is the queen of night creatures, their undisputed mistress, and she is devoted only, always, ever, to me.
She is neither child nor woman, young nor old, a dark and changeling beast. Those who bear her reincarnation wonder at the child who resembles them not; the child who cares little for their warmth and love, using them only to nourish her, to sate the hunger of her growth--for she must feed her growing power, as she feeds her growing body--until she is strong enough to call to me, her master and her lover. And when she calls at last...my search is ended, and I at last can see her face once more.
She does not know, my Bastet, to whom she calls--or how--or why; but she does call, she must, she always will. There is no way to deny the divinity of her soul, my goddess of the night; it will not and cannot be ignored. I have found her in Iceland, in France, in Russia, in China, ever and always the same: a dusky child, her skin tanned by the desert sun, her hair as black as the night she rules, a child fine and slim and wild, with eyes slit-pupilled and verdant, enchanting, frightening, the eyes of the jungle cat that is always the first form she learns to adopt.
She does not know, my Bastet, who she summons when she calls me--but she knows my voice, my scent, my soul--no matter what guise I choose to adopt. She does not refuse me when I come to her, abandoning all that was hers for my offered hands, coming forth without question to claim the birthright of her soul--to stand beside me, goddess and huntress, lover and beloved, partner and combatant and child--she is all and is my all.
We fight, my Bastet and I, as the predators we are--each of us a hunter, a warrior, proud and unyielding. When she first learns of her power, she tests it always, rebelling against me; she fights me as if we were the most mortal of enemies, hurling everything back in my face--my tutelage, my influence, my love--she is proud, haughty even, untamed. That is why I love her, my Bastet, why I am willing to tolerate her childish rebelliousness in life after life after life--because she is untamed, free, unafraid of me...and because she comes, always, to understand--to remember--to know:
I am Death; I cannot die. Goddess that she is, potent and powerful, she serves me by my side in the end, walking the night on a leash of devotion, fine and strong. And we hunt together, she and I, in the end. She is my Bastet, my immortal child, my goddess and my love. She is mine, ever and forever, as she has been since the night first fell, since she was born of the gathering shadows, full-formed and lovely, knowing me to be her master even as she first learned to change her form, first hunted, fulfilling her destiny with the first savour of blood on her tongue. She has always known--and always known me, as she has loved me in her wild way, since the beginning of time.
I am her master; I have ever been, even as she has ever been my only love. We have hunted together since the first night of time, my Bastet and I, finding each other over and over again as she is born and reborn. And that is why now, in the time between her birthings, I hunt without pause, seeking, searching, destroying that which denies me hope, for the desert-dark child with her slit-pupilled eyes--my Bastet, my goddess. My only love.

now feeling:: creative creative
now hearing:: Lab noises

1 whisper echoes . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word
piccolopixie From: piccolopixie Date: November 26th, 2002 07:28 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
I love this piece if only for the fact you used my favorite Egyptian diety (Doesn't hurt that the writing is lovely, too). I should show you a picture of the huge Bastet poster on my cieling sometime :)
1 whisper echoes . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word