The+Speech+of+Thoth

 The Speech of Thoth

"The ibis and the ink pot – these are blessed. For as the ibis pecks along the bank for a bit of food, So the scribe searches among his thoughts for some truth to tell. All the work is his to speak, its secrets writ down in his heart from the beginning of time, The gods’ words rising upwards through his dark belly, seeking light at the edge of his throat. In the beginning and at the end, The book is opened and we see what in life we are asked to remember.

Hear then, my words, the ringing of my speech, As the heart and scroll of this life falls open. Truth is the harvest scythe. What is sown – love or anger or bitterness – that shall be your bread. The barley is no better than its seed, so let what you plant be good. Let your touch on earth be light so that when earth covers you, the clods of dirt fall lightly. The soul of a man forgets nothing. It stands amazed at its own being.

The body is a soul's record. And when a man's life ends, his body is given back to the gods And the gods shall see what use their laws have been. They shall see the deeds its hands have made, The sparks of light its heart set in the world. They shall see whether or not their love, their powers have been wasted, Whether the plants it has grown were nourishing or poison.

And like the ibis, the gods shall circle about him, Hunting for seeds that remain uncultivated, For ideas that lie dormant, thoughts left unexpressed. They shall find new seeds from the plants he has tended. And these shall be planted again in the clay of a new man And he shall be sent back to the world until all the gods have seen fit To create in man is cultivated, and then, in final death, He shall be welcomed home as one of them."

Hymns of Thoth