And that was the time of Ptolemy... The Time that has no meaning and flows through me like eternal waters of an everlasting stream...
And I was needed the might and infinite power...
And chose Amun as the weapon of mine...
And I conceived a new myth, which would make him a Creator of the World and of all the other gods...
And I wrote about the snake Kem-Atef, who in his death hour bequeathed to his son Irta to create the Eight Divinities...
And these eight were set out to the Lower Nile to give birth to Sun God and then went to Memphis to give birth to Ptah and Atum. And, completing the great mission, they returned to Thebes and died there.
And were buried in the temple of their creator, Kem-Atef, and there was founded the cult of the dead.

This way I made the questions of creation for my temple and for all the priests of Amun, bending all previous thoughts about World and all the gods' birth to Amun alone...
And I have written on the tablets that the greatest of the gods is Amun... The ancestor of all being... The Savior of Egypt from the strangers... and what Amun is Ra himself...
And I was Hem Necher, and I held the services in Atef crown with two high golden plumes and a solar disc, holding the hieroglyph "Ankh" which means life itself... And my brow was crowned with a cobra once silenced The Ancient Eye, furious at Atum, and this cobra carried along with me the great mission to be the custodians of the world order established by Atum and Tefnut-Maat... Urei on my forehead emitted the dazzling rays and reduced to ashes all the enemies that we met on our way... And everyone were falling down before the fair face of the one, who carried her on his brow, and I was equal to God and Pharaoh, his leaving incarnation on the Earth...

And my sweet voice was saying:
"You are the sky, you are the earth, you - the other world, you – the water, you – the air what are between them"...
And he answered to me and to those who prostrated themselves before my feet:
"I have bound together the Nubian Troglodytes by the tens of thousands.
The northerners by hundreds of thousands as prisoners.
They came with gifts on their backs,
Bending before Your Majesty
To my order.
I let them to see Your Majesty as a young bull
Brave, raising his horns, and there are none who resist him.
I let them to see Your Majesty as a hero,
Lifting on his back the one whom he slew.
I let them to see Your Majesty as a lion,
And you kill them in their vale."

And I was at that moment not equal to Amun-Ra-nesut-necher but I was him...
And there was no creature nor in sublunary world nor beyond it that was equal to me...
Thus I conceived and thus I fulfilled...
And thought I, the Fallen, that I forgot the One who rejected and precipitated me...
And I, the impudent one, was mistaken that I was close to the goal...

But smell of crumpled sycamore leaves from the palms and soles of Herath reached my nostrils and murmured the loins of mine, and I was lost with the receptacle, where was my soul once...
And I fell with the vessel, where was my heart once...
And I fell knowing the first love...
Oh, Herath, my eternal virgin, that came into my dreams and filled my dead soul with the gifts of Hathor, I entered you and defiled the temples, created life and rose to the stars, continuing my great journey in Eternity... I forgot about those two hundreds, who waited in defilement and I turned away my face from the sufferers, seeing only you, my eternal virgin, who gave me that ought to keep the one who doomed to give immortality...

And your stomach became a half moon, about which only I knew that it's round like a head of a newborn...
And then the peoples were afraid of approaching two hundreds precipitated by my fault that will come after my son...
And cried the sycamores with the fruits that were food for the birds in the air...
And the palm that burned my wings to ashes once cached us with women who had opened the secret to the father of yours, incarnation of God on the Earth... With women that was destined to merge her blood with the semen of my son...











And gaped the sand...
And engrossed with its endless river the two livings with an unborn...
And filed the breath with eternal torment...
And then ended...
And dispassionate sky was watching quietly when the grave gaped...
And heard the everlasting cry that was tearing my chest...
And popped the nails and sprayed with blood breaking the sand in inconsolable hope
to fill with breath of Hathor your fragile throat...
You are in my arms like a milky sliver of moon...
Her reflection on the surface of green Nile...
Trembling stars under the feet... water to knees... to the chest...
The Eternal one with the dead in his arms... and with the dead inside...
with my unborn hope that will reborn not too soon...
Trembling of stars on the lips... water on the eyes...
I hate the sand...
Oh, how I hate it...