Sweating,
cracking the whip,
slaves lugging dried blocks of mud,
rolling and stacking them hand by hand.
As the temple continues to grow, the slavers see the pattern,
the pharaoh expressed his gratitude to see his that his creation unfolding-
but as days pass, the pharaoh never saw the complete temple. . .

Weeping,
gnashing of teeth.
The distraught slaves,
and their life work crumbled before them.
Building for the pharaoh was their purpose, but
now he passed, gone and among the other gods before him,
there is only one thing to do. . .

Mummified by family,
in a shrine made from solid gold.
A temple once built for looks,
currently constructed to house the body of a god.
Now as the casket of jewels continues to collect dust--
his reign  remains constant for the rest of eternity--
The life of the pharaoh will live on. . .