Member Poem

A poem about the evolution of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphics into dozens of Afro-Eurasian writing systems from Norse Runes to Tibetan, including these very Latin letters.

Thoth smiles on the work we’ve done

To raise his sixty-seven tribes
Of golden letters
Shimmering in our minds

In Egypt where the Ibis writes
And granted us the rights to the
Symbols of creation,
The Bulrush Lord gave bone, and blood
Was harvested from fires sown
With great intention

As stars are born from blackest night
So Ink produces light
As barley grows from blackest silt
Fertile Ink produces life

The Bulrush Lord—he was transformed
By the hands of many nations
Into novel iterations
For the sixty-seven tribes of Thoth
Painted each a different face
On Thoth’s other incarnation

Sixty-seven mighty tribes
From Manchuria to Spain
All keepers of Thoth’s wisdom
Sustaining Pharaoh’s reign