In the beginning nothing existed but the deep, dark waters of Nun. There was no land and no sky. No gods, no people, no light and no time. Only the endless, motionless waters. But deep within the still waters of Nun there floated a perfect egg. And trapped within that perfect egg was a solitary spark of life. Suddenly, inexplicably, the egg cracked open. Life broke free of its confining shell and, with a surge of energy, a mound rose out of the waters. Seated on that mound was the god Atum. Atum had created himself. He now shone as the sun, bringing light to his new-born world.
Lonely on this mound, Atum set about creating the living. He grasped his penis, and from the fluids of his body sprang twin children: Shu the god of the dry air and Tefnut the goddess of moisture. Atum and Shu and Tefnut lived together, happy and safe on their mound in the midst of the waters of Nun until, one dreadful day, Shu and Tefnut fell into the waters. Shrieking, they disappeared from view.
Blinded by his tears, Atum called upon his Eye to search for the lost twins. The Eye of Atum found Shu and Tefnut in the deep depths of the waters of Nun. As she restored them to their father, Atum’s tears of grief turned to tears of joy. Copious, they fell to the ground. And from these tears sprang men and women. So began a glorious age when humans and gods lived in harmony on the mound in the midst of the waters of Nun.
Shu and Tefnut loved each other as husband and wife, and Tefnut bore her brother’s children: Geb the handsome god of the earth and Nut the beautiful goddess of the sky. Geb lay down and became the fertile land. He bore the fields and the marshes and the great river Nile. Grain sprouted from his ribs, and plants grew from his back. His laughter brought earthquakes, and his anger brought famine. Nut loved her brother and happily bore his children, the glittering stars that decorate the dark night sky. But one terrible day, just as a hungry mother pig might sometimes eat her young, Nut swallowed her star-children. Geb flew into a furious rage and the land trembled and shook with his anger. To escape Geb’s wrath Nut stretched herself above her brother, her fingers and toes resting on the horizons of the north, east, south and west. And Shu knelt with arms outstretched between his beloved children, holding them apart lest they should continue their quarrel.
Now Nut’s arched body separated the world from chaotic waters of Nun. Her laughter rumbled as thunder and her tears fell as rain. Along her body the stars and moon twinkled at night, and the sun blazed by day. And every evening she swallowed the sun so that it passed through her body to be reborn from her womb at dawn.
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Atum’s story recognised the fact that there must have been a time before time: a time pre-existence when Nun, who was neither created nor self-created, existed alone. Then suddenly and inexplicably, the primeval mound emerged from the chaotic waters, just as Egypt’s fields re-emerged each year from the live-giving waters of the Nile floods. However, while the beginning of time was marked by an abrupt surging of life and the rising of a mound (the sexual significance of which would not have been lost on the Egyptians), Egypt experienced a more gradual re-emergence; here the deep red waters retreated slowly, leaving behind a thick blanket of mud and a useful crop of stranded fish. As the Egyptians well knew, this ‘new’ land would be moist and fertile; with careful tending it would yield a crop that would be the envy of the ancient world. This idea of the life-giving mound found echo in the desert cemeteries, where raised mounds covered the most basic of graves: with its mound in place the grave became not only a symbol of death, but a promise of resurrection for the deceased. Eventually, the mound would be a formalised in the form of a mastaba tomb — a subterranean tomb topped by a rectangular stone or brick superstructure — which would itself evolve into the royal pyramid.
Reference books:
Kalampedia 