The great beast with the sun blazing upon his face, guards Rostau (The Entrance of the Duat; The Underworld) upon which the pyramids stand in their silent majesty. Little known, rarely visited and nearly forgotten is the old place, the Temple of the Sphinx. Told by my heart to look there, go toward the deeper mysteries and the longer past, I went toward the ancient weathered stones and away from the great paws after I had honored the silent sentinel and made a personal dedication.
“Seek deeper, seek there,” the eyes of the great Wisdom Keeper (The Sphinx) appeared to look down for an instant and directly into my heart. So, closing out the chatter, clicking of cameras and rustle of clothing I moved away and to where a vortex of energy drew me deeper into the waves of time that seemed to wash over me, passing in a swirl. Then a form shimmered in the morning light and took human form, walking into my mind’s eye up from the ruins of the ancient temple complex. A vision of the Nile flood appeared covering that of the sandy landscape, showing a time when the Sphinx enclosure wall trapped it within and the Sphinx with the face of Anubis appeared to be floating on the surface. I looked down, amazed at the tightly twisted reed canoe-like boat in which I was rocking and swaying, where moments before the wind had sprayed sand in my face and teased the ends of my scarf.
“Mahoreb, is the name by which I am called,” the specter of the ancient priest placed the words telepathically into my mind. Although he was a wispy form, I could vividly see his kohl-lined eyes and the leopard skin robe of the High Priest. His demeanor was that of one who might be coming forward as a teacher or guide and I was eager to ask, but dared not to speak for fear the scene would vanish in an instant if I did. I wanted to ask a million questions, but could only sit in silent acceptance and watch as he suddenly stood upon the ruined wall, backlit by the spreading rays of the morning sun and matching my heartbeat by tapping the stones with the was-scepter in his hand.
“Father,” I whispered without knowing why I would say such a thing . . . Then, I wept.
“You have come home, my wise little priestess. I have waited across the ages . . .” His words drifted off on the breeze and I could not hear them. Then he faded. He was too ancient to be held within my energy field any longer. I hope he will return in some manner when the time is right. I can only hold a place and remember the promise I made to the Sphinx, which opened time's gateway and allowed Mahoreb to come through:
I shall see without eyes, hear without sounds and feel without fingers.
