The disc of the sun overspreads the sky. Akhnaten stands with his arms outstretched, reaching for knowledge. For beauty. My daughters, I, we pose in the bright breeze, the fallen old temple at our feet. I’m here at the birth of something new, something that will outlast.
The new city, old and childish gods shaken away, our statues singing to the light. Our statues singing to the rays.
My husband loves the light that streams, like Nile waters rushing in the sky. The light that hardens mud into flesh. The light unbroken.
Light lasting forever, even down into the tomb.