“Avast!” the axe-fall blade, abrupt, demanded death-industrial: it called, it falled, found its fortune to be laid upon the wharfway stone.
The past: t’was present, as the present: t’was pushed passed. The world: t’was floating ‘midst the passing future.
The girl knelt and stared at the grains, all gathered, of the hot, compacted sand, lowering her right hand slowly t’ward its canvas-surface.
Sunrise, then, o’er the city of the sceptre; dawn about the fort upon the chasm.
Crocodiles hold union on the marsh.
The final days of Nefertiti’s childhood.
Inscribe upon those scrolls, your stylus dipped in deathless ink, the ‘glyphs I’ve gathered swiftly for to fend off time!
‘Midst the dawn’s chill, she watched the night-time passing westward as she felt the tide of heat fall on her bare skin.
A finely crafted lot of letters nailed into its door, the room, so full in retrospect, slept – spacious; silent.
The walls of mud-made brick that bind and shape the space they share start to compress – contracting in upon themselves; sharp shuddering.
Two paths curve t’ward an empty cradle.
Let sekhem and sesheshet sing in beat-procession, ringing through these ‘glyphed papyrus-reeds!
Vissuhrah entoombed; brightist star.