No Trumpets, No Fire
No trumpet sounds.
No skies split open.
No heavenly army descending with golden banners or flaming swords.
Only silence.
And in the midst of that silence, something returns—
not crawling, not leaping,
but emerging, as if it had never truly left.
They are the forgotten ones.
Not because they were unimportant,
but because the world was too busy forging new heroes
to bury footprints too ancient, too haunting,
too reminding of our true beginnings.
Forgotten Does Not Mean Gone
The forgotten never truly die.
They sleep in the cracks of time,
in the unfinished dreams of the collective soul,
in the footnotes of scriptures silenced
for shaking the comfort of the living.
They are the cursed dreamers,
the punished sentinels,
the wanderers lost not from error,
but because they once knew the road
before the world was ready for it.
The Breath of God
Not fire. Not quakes.
God remembers not with thunder,
but with breath.
A gentle breath that touches something deep within the bone.
It awakens what was never revived by prayer.
It stirs embers never fully extinguished.
And in that breath,
they rise—not as zombies,
but as complete echoes
of a time the world once rejected.
“We do not return for vengeance.
We do not come to claim thrones.
We only return…
because He remembered us.”
A World Caught Off Guard
No one notices at first.
Until ancient words return to children’s tongues.
Until scholars are disturbed by strange dreams.
Until rain falls when it should not,
and clouds move in reverse.
Until stones crack forming letters,
and the earth whispers in scripts forgotten by time.
And leaders panic.
And new prophets fall silent.
For the world realizes:
someone has returned.
Not demons. Not heroes.
But the ancient—the erased.
Bearers of a promise left unfulfilled.
No Victory, Only Return
Not every return is for war.
Sometimes, return is to fill the empty seat
in a liturgy interrupted.
To finish a lost line of prayer.
To weave back the thread of destiny
left for mankind to rediscover.
And the world,
that once rejected them,
now trembles,
for this time…
they do not ask permission to arrive.
They come
because God has breathed them back into the world.