Egyptian

He has just emerged from the Nile.
His skin glistens, washed by water and moonlight.
His muscles are relaxed, yet filled with life.
He rests at the threshold where the world holds its breath —
behind him, the silent geometry of temples; around him, only night.
There are no spectators here, no myth.
There is only him — alive, breathing, warm.
The story is not invented — it awakens in his body.
Stillness becomes sacred. And the gaze — part of the ritual.