Hathor and Ra: The Myth of the Distant Goddess
note “there is one God , and the story for ancieant Egyptians and the Gods here they were thought in them , but the omly we believe is one God “
ChThe Eye of Ra, Sekhmet’s Rage and Thoth’s Journey to Bring Her Home: An Ancient Egyptian Mythology Story in Seven Chaptersapter
One: The Sun Grows Old
Before there were pharaohs, before the pyramids climbed the sky like stairways for the dead, Ra himself ruled Egypt.
Every dawn he rose from the eastern horizon in his boat of a million years. The Two Lands woke beneath his light, and the world began again. In the Black Land, Kemet, the Nile left its dark silt each summer, and the fields turned green with barley, emmer wheat and flax. Beyond them lay the Red Land, Deshret, where the desert kept its silence and its secrets. Between the two, the great river flowed, the road of every living thing.
The people loved their world, and they filled it with sound. At dawn, farmers walked into the fields with flint-toothed sickles and sang as they cut the golden grain. Fishermen pushed their reed boats into the current and called to one another across the water. In the cities, scribes sat cross-legged in the shade and pressed their pens to fresh papyrus, writing the names of things so that the world would never forget them. Masons chanted over blocks of limestone. Potters shaped jars for beer and honey. Children chased ibis through the mud and fell asleep on rooftops, counting stars.
At night, families gave thanks to Ra, who had given them the day.
Beside Ra’s throne stood Ma’at, goddess of truth and balance, with a single ostrich feather in her hair. By her law the river rose when it should and the sun returned each morning. By her law, a good heart weighed no more than that feather when its owner stood at the scales of the afterlife. Ma’at never raised her voice. She did not need to. When she walked through the halls of heaven, even the gods lowered their eyes.
And beside Ma’at, shining like a lamp in a dark room, was Hathor, the Golden One.
She was the lady of music, love and joy. She wore the horns of a cow, and between them rested the red disk of the sun. Her skin glowed like honey, and her eyes were the dark blue of lapis. When she laughed, the sistrum rattled in the hands of her priestesses and the whole sky seemed to ring. When she danced, flowers opened along the riverbank and the wind turned warm and sweet. Sailors prayed to her for safe journeys. Lovers whispered her name under the acacia trees. Mothers sang her lullabies over sleeping children.
She was also the Eye of Ra, his daughter and his deepest pride. Whatever Ra saw, she saw. Whatever he felt, she felt. When the sun blazed in the heavens, it was her light, too.
But Ra was growing old.
No one had ever imagined it. Gods did not age, the people said. Yet slowly, almost without anyone noticing, his flesh had turned to gold, his bones to silver and his hair to lapis lazuli. His boat sailed a little slower each day. His voice, once like thunder rolling across the desert, now trembled when he gave orders. In the evenings, when he sank into the western darkness, he stayed there a little longer, and some mornings the dawn came late.
A god who ages is a strange and terrible thing. For the heavens themselves tremble when their king grows tired.
In the narrow streets of Memphis, in the taverns of Thebes, in the reed villages of the delta, people began to whisper. At first the whispers were small, a joke over beer or a worried glance at the morning sky. But whispers have wings, and they flew from house to house, from field to field, faster than falcons.
The Sun is old, they said,
his light is thin, his arm is slow.
Who will answer to a king of gold
when gold can bend, and tire, and go?
Ra heard them. He sat on his golden throne, watching the people through the great window of the sky, and a coldness settled in his chest that no sunlight could warm. Hathor saw it too. She took his hand and said quietly, “They are only afraid, Father. People are always afraid of what they cannot understand.”
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Ra patted her fingers and did not answer. He was thinking of loyalty, and of how easily it could break.
Far below, in the shadow of the temples, the first whisper of rebellion had already begun to take shape.
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