THE BEGINNING

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBPrGRmfrFR8aBN6YE76KcooXJBH9rs8g&si=Dwg5nf78NG-P9naf Before the sirens learned their names, before the towers bowed, a quiet fracture crossed the air no thunder spoke aloud. The earth did not cry warning then, no trumpet split the sky; the ending entered softly first; a question passing by. The markets hummed, the screens still glowed, the faithful knelt unchanged; yet something in the weight of things had shifted, faint, estranged. A seam beneath the fabric stirred, a thread began to fray; and those who felt it held their breath but did not turn away. For powers older than the dust had written patient schemes; they fed on want, on fear, on noise, and nested in our dreams. Not crowned in flame nor cloaked in night, but dressed in borrowed skin; the shepherd’s voice, the healer’s hand, the god that welcomed sin. They taught the tongue to worship glass, to measure worth in light; to kneel before the endless feed and call the hunger right. And every generation learned the lullaby by heart; that truth is loud, that silence fails, that noise itself is art. But silence is a listening thing. It waited. It endured. It watched the towers praise themselves while rot spread, slow, assured. For heaven does not hurry storms, nor answer every plea; the blade is forged in hidden fire long before decree. Now listen, not for comfort’s sake, nor promise of reprieve. The hymns that rise in dying worlds are not the ones we grieve. They are the songs of sharpened sight, of armor taking form; of eyes that open not to light, but how to face the storm. The veil is not collapsing now. It loosens by design. Those who ruled the shadow knew the hour and the sign. Yet even thrones that shape the dark cannot outwait the breath of something vast and wordless moving quietly through death. So stand within the thinning air. Do not demand to see. Some truths arrive as gravity; inevitable. Decree. And when the final silence speaks, it will not ask your name; it calls the ones already marked and sets their sight to flame. When trumpets rose in former years and kingdoms thinned to dust, you gathered where a remnant burned because you felt you must. Not mine the breath that stirred the coal, nor mine the sign that came; I kept the watch beside the dark and would not loose the flame. And should the firmament be torn and watchers veil the sky, should towers fail and oceans speak and lesser lights go dry; remember where the silence broke and something answered name; I stood within the breaking then. And I will stand the same. https://youtu.be/9Kjnyjl8hGs?si=eSaQEBXqYrDWAOV9