He found the box at his doorstep
He opened it without further prep
The sleepiness has now fled
As the gold inscription said:

"Grandchild of Osiris,
Maker of holy papyrus
Thou wilt receive a gift
Blessing for the bereft
By the gracious Amun
A fate awaits you shan't run
The garb of the ancestors
Thy royal Ka shalt bestir
Thou shalt wear it with pride
May Amun-Ra be thy guide"

He unrolled the contents
Found the mentioned garments;
A pleated Shendyt skirt
The color of gold and dirt
A belt with an Ankh for a buckle
Woven sandals that made him chuckle
A white headdress, a thick gold necklace
The uniform rendered him breathless

He knew what to do, now his Ka awoke
He'd defend the weak as Amun bespoke
By day, he'd be a souvenir maker
By night, he'd be villains' undertaker
Wearing the forefathers' attire
Keeping the secret for a purpose higher

Written for PoetsPub June Contest