Poem: They Came to Show Us the Way

They came not with thunder, nor flashing of light,
But soft as the hush at the fall of night.
Eyes like echoes of stars grown wise,
And silence deeper than midnight skies.

No banners they bore, no armies in tow,
Just footprints fading where moonbeams go.
With hands outstretched, they spoke through flame,
Not of conquest—but of name.

They said, “We were you, before the fall—
When the world was wide, and hearts were tall.
We sailed through time, through grief, through grace,
To lift the veil from the sleeping face.”

We listened—not with ears, but soul—
Each word a bell, each pause a toll.
They showed us paths we’d dared not dream,
Through forests lost and crystal streams.

Not gods, not ghosts, not myths made flesh—
But kin awakened from olden mesh.
They planted seeds, then turned away,
And left us standing in the day.

Now every dawn feels strangely wide,
With wind that hums of worlds inside.
And when we walk, we walk aware—
That once, the stars came down to care.

They came not to rule, nor beg us to pray—
They came to remind us:
We are the way.