Dive into the duat

[Intro - spoken, soft, like a child waking]

I don’t know a secret. I just opened my eyes.

[Verse 1 - faster, but still simple]

Living live? I don’t know what that means. The crocodile sleeps with his mouth in the stream. I breathed. Yeah. My chest went up and down. But my Ka was a bird stuck in the ground. My Ba had a wing that forgot how to sound. Living’s not the heartbeat under the gown. Living’s the scarab pushing the sun through the town. I was alive. But my jaw was a lock. No spell. No word. Just a tick-tock clock.

[Chorus - faster, rhythmic]

Dive. Dive. Into Duat. Geb’s ribs open. The sun goes dark. Twelve hours down where the snake leaves a mark. Ma’at’s scale. My heart on the ark. Feather or stone? I don’t know. But I embark. Dive through the gate where the knives are stark. Speak Hekau. Break the bark. Rise as Ra. Before the lark.

[Verse 2 - innocent, puzzled]

Waking up is the first hour of night. Ra in Nut’s belly. No one turns on the light. I don’t know why. I just know it’s true. Waking is the Ba coming back to its roof. I rise from my mat. But who gave me the shove? Osiris? Anubis? Or the wing of a dove? Horus eye broken. Thoth counts the shards. My room looks the same. But the walls grow hard. Book of Gates on the plaster and wood. Floor is Geb. Sky is Nut. Understood? I’m the sun between them. I fell. I stood. Now I’m awake. And it feels… good.

[Chorus - faster, almost stumbling]

Dive. Dive. Dive the Duat. Sun goes down. Apep’s throat gets cut. Swallow me? Fine. I’ll cut from the gut. Lake of fire. Cold or hot? Hall of two truths. I forgot what I’m not. “I am pure.” I say it a lot. Heart on the scale. Feather in the slot. That’s waking. That’s the second dawn shot. I don’t know the secret. So what?

[Verse 3 - rapid, childlike wonder]

Third hour. Dead sun meets a worm. I dive every morning. Let the ground squirm. Waking’s the boat flipping over the Nile. Waking’s Isis sewing her husband’s smile. My name is Osiris. My body is wheat. My death is a door that swings on a street. Book of Caverns. Ra’s tear on a leaf. Becomes a bee. Becomes belief. I don’t know what that means. But it’s brief. This is Akh. Not a book. Not a chief. The spirit that wakes. And the world says “Oh.”

[Verse 4 - commanding but simple, like a child playing]

Manifest the room. Not by will. By word. Ptah spoke the ground. Every noun I’ve heard. Chair. Door. Cup. Hand. Eye. I say it. I spit it. I don’t ask why. This hand is Horus. This eye is whole. This breath is Ankh — knot of my soul. The world’s not out there. It’s Ra’s shared dream. I wake inside it. I tear the seam. Touch the wall. “Geb, you’re my spine.” Touch the sky. “Nut, you’re mine.” Manifest offering. No god above. The god is my own waking face. And I love.

[Outro - fastest, one breath, then a whisper]

Wake. Dive. Rise. Repeat. Every morning before the sun’s heat. Snake taste. Scale break. Thoth writes my name. Cross the Duat. Same old game. Before breakfast. Before light. Ra says: I am. I am the light. No secret. No ghost. No hidden art. Just a kid with the sun in her heart.

[Whisper - single drum hit, then silence]

I don’t know a secret. But I’m awake now.