Where once was favored a soul. So started a foundation of letters to act as reverence to a name then became a poison to the whispered lips of loss. Words of cherish now become the spitting venom from the asp. There then were the words that Pharaoh spoke to be as faded and jaded as the hope of times now gone by. Only seen as a hint of being is the soul another spirit now outshines. As memories change due to the writing of victors the human heart is cast as mud and mire to fortify the stone that will build a sanctuary fortress known only by another name. Simply similar; to assimilate the story.

So wiped I, the memory of light, for it gathered more the shadows tethering me to the darkness. Thus, Pharaoh spoke and smote the name from record. As if ash were writ upon the page now wiped as dust to be concealed within the gilded tome. With one now gone will thrive the assumption of another. Such is the art upon the Pharaoh’s wall. Tapestry re-woven by the will of spoiled god. Now handed down through the ages as a smite, a smear, and nothing more. No name now for a favored soul for pharaoh spoke it so; that none will remember except for what writ upon a page was.

Many years will pass on by as Pharaoh reigns with sleight of hand. And through those years will become the forgotten one lost to fragment, hint, and innuendo. Now does slither the asp in shadows through the halls of record to guard against the offending word. Cast with it forever in death to times lost. Coiled and awaiting strike to those that wish to speak of souls that lost a Pharaoh’s favor. So let it be written, so let it be done. For that will surely work to wash away the memories of what was but should have never been. And Pharaoh spoke to lonely silence.