You belong among the sun-crowned lands.
An ever-shifting masquerade.
Beneath lies hidden, the pride of kings,
Forgotten to your passing farewell.
A sea of endless possibility.
Outstretched beneath your unclenched palm.
No wonder we lock you in a glass,
And measure by, the hours to pass,
And whisper still : “momento mori”
Formless stone begets ageless earth.
Warnings from the western shore.
Weary waters take our oars,
And bear us to eternity.
What I am you too shall be.
By Set’s red hand,
And Horus’s left eye.
Together, in unwilling unity.
A time to live, and a time to die.
All is marked beneath your gaze.
One last grain, a heartfelt pain,
And a clarion call to the free.