The world was nothing, silent, deep,
A cosmic, endless, darkling sleep,
Before the first dawn learned to break,
For the Hidden One’s own sake.

Then rose a sound, a whispered word,
A golden voice, the first one heard.
From Nun’s dull waters, vast and cold,
A mound of earth began to bold.

And on that mound, in primal light,
He stood alone, in dazzling might.
Amun, the Hidden, name unknown,
As Ra, the Sun, in glory shown.

His first breath blew the winds, the air,
His tear-drop fell, and Man was there.
From his bright eye, the moon was cast,
To rule the night when day was past.

Each morning, from the eastern sky,
He hears the jackal’s welcome cry.
He boards his barque of a million years,
To sail and conquer all our fears.

The coward serpent, Apep’s might,
Lies coiled to drown the world in night.
With spear and flame, the crew fights on
To see the birth of another dawn.

He sails the sky, he sees all things
The joy a grain of wheat-flour brings,
The secret whispered in the tomb,
The flower’s hope, the womb’s dark bloom.

At dusk, he sinks, grown tired and old,
His story done, his fire cold.
He journeys through the underworld,
Where judgment’s scales are gently furled.

He brings his light to souls who wait,
And conquers death at every gate.
Then, born anew, a scarab’s sign,
He breaks the east with light divine.

So praise to him, the king of all,
Who hears the sparrow and its call.
The Hidden Sun, the eternal flame,
Amun-Ra is his secret name.