Thou didst create the distant heavens
In order to behold all that Thou didst make.
Thou comest, thou goest, thou comest back
And Greatest out of thyself, the Only One,
Thousands upon thousands of forms:
Cities, towns and villages
On highways and on rivers.
All eyes see thy eternal sun.
When thou hast risen they live, when thou settest they die,
When thou didst establish the earth
Thou didst reveal thy will to me,
Thy Son, Akhnaton, who lives for ever and proceeds from thee,
And to thy beloved daughter,
Nefertiti, the delight of the Sun's delights.
Who flourishes for ever and ever.
Thou, Father, art in my heart
And there's no other that knows thee,
Only I know thee, thy son,
Akhnaton Uaenra,
Joy of the Sun, Sun's only son!"
When she had finished writing, Dio put the scroll inside an earthenware vessel, sealed it with a leaden seal with the sun disc of Aton and, as soon as it was dark, took a spade and went to Maki's birch tree by the big pond in the garden.
The fiery whirlwind of Sheheb had withered the tree, the blackened leaves were rolled up into little tubes, but the roots were alive. Maki dug it out to move it to a new hole with fresh earth in it, but she probably had not had time to finish her work before night: the tree lay near the hole.
Dio dug the hole deeper, put the earthenware pot into it, covered it with earth and levelled it.
A white rose was blooming close by in a flowerbed by the pond. In the stillness of the April night glowworms flitted about like sparks. One of them burrowed its way into the rose, and the flower seemed to have a heart of fire.
Dio went up to it, kissed it and thought:
"If some day men read my writing, they will connect Akhnaton with Dio. I shall be in him as this flame is in the flower."