Hymn+of+Khepri

Hymn to Khepri

“A beetle wanders in the night tasting dust, smelling worms, feeling the ground. He pushes and pushes the seed of himself, a dried ball of dung. Insanity! What can come of such preoccupation, such slavish devotion to dung? Through the belly of darkness, he creeps, struggles with his burden, at first small and soft, now a large, hard, heavy stone. It is one hour before dawn. Breezes blow. The ball of dung turns gold. In the light of day, the ball breaks; beetles fly into the sun. That is Khepri.”

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