Let not my corpse rot in the necropolis
Let not my crimes be raised against me whilein the earth
Make my flesh and bones safe from maggots
And any false God who trespasses my tomb
You whose heart has been seized from thy breast
Save me from the ravages of decay
The crawlings fiends who take away limbs
Corpses who deny the inevitable truth
The lifetime of Osiris is the sky and theirs is the ground
In the ethereal realm of the Duat, where the boundaries between life and death blur into a mystic tapestry, a silent plea echoes through the unseen corridors. Save me from those imprisoned in the Duat, where the shadows conceal the lost souls, unaware of their transient existence. Their essence, like a bluegreen letter written in the language of the afterlife, remains unread, awaiting deliverance from the veiled enigma that shrouds their consciousness. As the cosmic winds weave tales of the departed, the plea lingers, a poignant whisper in the vast expanse of the Duat’s enigmatic domain.
Save me from the rotting dead
Who sleep inside their corpseslifetime
Whose breath becomes fire inside their water
At whose burning the sea rises at dawn
Grant me the immolating flame
Burn my sarcophagus
In opposition to the lords of eternity
I beg you
Prevent my corpse from putrefying in the realm of the dead
I burn
Check mylenders com au.