|Posted on November 7, 2012 at 4:30 AM|
"The Key of Life"...
(This is a prose dialogue between an ancient Egyptian female pharoah and a person living in Egypt today...)
She led me by the hand, the corridor was dark,
The stench of urine welcomes me to "old Age",
"Here is the chamber, or in your tongue, sarcophagus!"
Scrolls spilled everywhere, papyrus shredded,
The mummy laying before me, wore the hint of a sardonic grin...
Her scent tells of dyed cloth, the Nile, and Kohl,
Her head wears thick meticulously braided black hair,
"Come to see our scriptures, or in your tongue, hieroglyphics!
Tales are pictured to stay alive forever, eternal motion,
They speak of our glory, and your ignorant commotion"...
"We honored our dead, we obeyed our pharoahs,
Our tombs, or in your tongue pyramids, outlived heroes,
Our ointments preserved bodies and did the tricks,
Now you come to visit our Sphinx!
Mena the Mighty united the halves,
Only to be visited by strangely-shaped calves!"
"We call them vehicles, Your Majesty"...
"Nevertheless, they pollute our souls,
And disturb our tranquility,
We cherished peace,
And respected humanity,
We had dignity"...
"We were believers in the God of the Gods,
We had kings and we had fiefs,
We had nature and coral reefs,
What are your beliefs?
How do you preserve your dead?
How do you keep out your thieves?"
"Our beliefs lie in money and matter,
The two concepts 'coined' long after your term "barter",
The paper is valueless, but the number stamped, valuable,
Our dead lay in hidden chambers, cannot be seen by family members,
Sometimes the body is robbed of its organs,
Just like your bodies were robbed of gems"...
"Sounds to me like the "temple of doom",
My friend, how do you tolerate such actions, such loom?"
"If only I could live in your age and story,
Then I would have known the true meaning of life and glory"...
"Certainly, for we the ancient hold the key of life,
A concept that cannot be coined in your unorthodox way of life"...
With this, she departed,
Her head held high, walking through the picture,
She repositions her graceful self,
Palms to the sky...
The void, on the temple wall, is now complete once more,
She preferred to return to her own ancient world,
Than to stay in a world that tore....
Categories: To The Majesty of The Word...