[Jeffrey]

a crash course on infonautics

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills
.............- Whitman

Clara Jack back in the cabin, praying
o'er the sleeping form of her Swedish mate,
and I the farmhand in a valley shed.

My head hung in shame when news came. My face,
the bite of my axe, my trembling grip,
red as Ra's daily death. Set Osiris
on the mantle, I have managed his fall.
But Lady Jack was Persephone, bound.

Pink Cadillac on endless yellow brick,
I set my sights east. The meek and the least
of the timber line will never know this.

I brandished the blade o'er his head. Trump card
deep in his cups and on his spine, laughing
at the twisting fates and the splintered tree.
Wilhelm twenty paces west consoling
the queen of the logging country. No tears.

Roused at a rifle retort, I came. Queen
and King fending off a foe flushed red,
and I the farmhand in a valley shed.
Too late to save limb of a sort, but life
trudged on. Soon, I was gone. This was my dream.

[Nate]

I like the subtle inclusion of "Set" among Ra and Osiris by the sneaky use you made of the homographic verb.

Apart from ambiguity, serendipity is one of the other guiding forces that I think defines art.

I tried to Google [much like I did "metamythopoeic" in the Dagger City response] "ra set osiris" to see what happened.

I accidentally typed in "ras set osiris," and came across these crazy, but compelling, lyrics.

They're beyond putting through CGR's censors, but it's kind of interesting, though only tangentially related to your piece.