As I undertake the transfer of ideas from the old site and start of the new ON THE WINGS OF THE STARS, I played with several ideas. The beauty of this morning held my attention and took me back to a memory of watching the sun rising over the Nile in Egypt. I decided to begin my new blog by linking this morning's daydreaming with the ancient beauty of a Nile sunrise and share this inspirational excerpt from my book; a visual through the eyes of Alexander “Ramses” Smith.
. . . he noticed the window seemed ablaze. Expecting something outside on fire, Lex grabbed for the doorknob, yanked it open and leaped through but halted abruptly. He stood in awe. Indeed, there was a fire but it blazed from the paintbrush of the Neteru as they created a new backdrop for any analogy he might imagine for Egypt.
“From the black horizon Khephera, the morning sun, spreads wings of renewal,” Lex whispered. “Alas, the dung beetle flies on wings of orange, yellow and violet flames to announce the rebirth of light.” He smiled then noticed how the ripples on the Nile were becoming sequins reflecting the fiery display of the above. “It is time to awaken Khnum, open the sanctuary and dress the god.”
Lex barely noticed what he had just said for he became intensely aware of how the ancients would have stood, imagining their world into being--then ascribing it onto their temples. He knew his father would interpret this poetic moment as laziness but Lex could smirk at that. Automatically he justified it. “I’m just drifting on waves of sleep deprivation.” Reality complied with the feel of crisp cotton touching bare skin. In this moment with shaven head beneath a poorly twisted turban, Lex felt more like an ancient than he had ever daydreamed. He knew he should chalk it up to enhanced comprehension from hands-on effort in the temple but sensed it was actually from an indiscriminate something stirring deep within his breast. There was also an amazing intimacy in these feelings, as if they had always belonged to him or him to them. It was like waking from a coma and looking out upon a scene so changed by time.
Lex shook his head, trying to be convinced it was all due to the morning sky teasing his moody imagination. He gazed out across the river once more. By now, the early fog was vanishing and night shadows driven back to their hiding places. His plan for an early start was going with them and the sun would soon be blistering the landscape. He glanced about, noting only a few early risers, the raucous bray of a donkey and an impatient yapping dog. The village is waking and I must get moving, he thought and turned to return inside.
. . . he noticed the window seemed ablaze. Expecting something outside on fire, Lex grabbed for the doorknob, yanked it open and leaped through but halted abruptly. He stood in awe. Indeed, there was a fire but it blazed from the paintbrush of the Neteru as they created a new backdrop for any analogy he might imagine for Egypt.
“From the black horizon Khephera, the morning sun, spreads wings of renewal,” Lex whispered. “Alas, the dung beetle flies on wings of orange, yellow and violet flames to announce the rebirth of light.” He smiled then noticed how the ripples on the Nile were becoming sequins reflecting the fiery display of the above. “It is time to awaken Khnum, open the sanctuary and dress the god.”
Lex barely noticed what he had just said for he became intensely aware of how the ancients would have stood, imagining their world into being--then ascribing it onto their temples. He knew his father would interpret this poetic moment as laziness but Lex could smirk at that. Automatically he justified it. “I’m just drifting on waves of sleep deprivation.” Reality complied with the feel of crisp cotton touching bare skin. In this moment with shaven head beneath a poorly twisted turban, Lex felt more like an ancient than he had ever daydreamed. He knew he should chalk it up to enhanced comprehension from hands-on effort in the temple but sensed it was actually from an indiscriminate something stirring deep within his breast. There was also an amazing intimacy in these feelings, as if they had always belonged to him or him to them. It was like waking from a coma and looking out upon a scene so changed by time.
Lex shook his head, trying to be convinced it was all due to the morning sky teasing his moody imagination. He gazed out across the river once more. By now, the early fog was vanishing and night shadows driven back to their hiding places. His plan for an early start was going with them and the sun would soon be blistering the landscape. He glanced about, noting only a few early risers, the raucous bray of a donkey and an impatient yapping dog. The village is waking and I must get moving, he thought and turned to return inside.
