Ra looked down.
Not a single cloud disturbed his crown.
All around was blue,
Above the sand, a burnished yellow.

I looked down at my beautiful hands.
I turned them over, studying the lines and curves of flesh, nail and skin.

My family said they were made for the gods and kings.
Made to render the world they lived in.
I drew what I saw.

I filled the things I drew with colours the palace gave me.
The red of the sinking Ra.
The black of Osiris.
The blues of lucky birds.
And the greens of my papyrus.

Without looking I could see their beautiful eyes lined in kohl.
I lengthened the lines to give them a certain elegance.
I drew them as they'd want to be known.
Dancing. Their fine features drawn as if they were eternal.

Their robes winked at Ra, aflame with gold and precious rocks.
I drew them as they stood amongst their cattle.
Now was the time for the glorification of man, he thought.
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