On the sands of the past
blow notes that ever last
awaiting words from the One who has spoken.
On his words, we would not feed
and paid heed to our own greed.
We forsook all of the ways of the Aten.
For he was the one, the lonely one
that gave us light from the sun
to feed the gardens we do all walk in.
I took your name, Akhen Aten,
Spread your words, sang them often.
My oath to you, on notes so true, flow through time unbroken.