The sculptors mark this boy’s life on the eternal rocks
He is born in a sparkling room
His elder sisters gather and coo
The baby is oblivious to the attention
And plays with his mothers jewels
His hunting skills expand
He has a killer’s eye
And a blacksmith’s strength
On a two horse chariot he rides over the deprived landscape
Boom! Roar! His footfalls are thunder
He controls the beasts with ease
No brute or man defies him
Leading an army, his chin grows strong
This boy brandishes his own spear in war
He does not send his slaves for the job
No man dare declare him false
When he carries a whip and a glower
This boy has eyes that pierce stone
Fear is struck into the souls of his enemy
Stronger than the pyramids he watched over
His sisters circle him
They adorn him with jewelry
Celebrating his victory
Perfectly placed gold decorates his proud torso
His gold outshines the blazing sun
This boy brings the scent of perfume where he sets foot
Though his build is hardly larger than his sisters’
And He never reached 6 foot 8
He led Egypt ‘till his final days
When the proud boy-king
Died of malaria
He was in great pain
His sister never brought him a male heir
This boy was noble until the final moment
King Tutankhamen
The well beloved Son
The sculptors drop their chisels with a clang
His story is over
They leave to praise the next Pharaoh
And abandon boy-king Tutankhamen
To exist only on rock and sand