In this the millennium of Ra,
The craft of writing signifies to me
A black manuscript,
Empowered with the muse of emotion,
Page's edges dripping with one's blood.
This rich red pigment of the river of life
Allows the divine scribe
This ibis-headed god of time and truth
To reinvent the impossible
Within the landscape of the poet's infinity
In the temple of Ra, in a time
Predating this universe of faith misplaced,
Thoth freely gave this gift of ancient alchemy
To the master story-teller,
So that immunity was ensured for the child of light
Against the decaying flesh and crumbling bones
Of the too fragile human form of the divine phoenix
The key is the philosopher's stone.
Thoth's Secret copyright © Marjorie Savill Linthwaite 2008 All rights reserved.
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