Ancient names carved in clay and stone,
Anunnaki, angels—forces unknown.
Were they beings, or codes in disguise,
Programs of will in the Creator’s eyes?
They whisper through myths, through temples and scrolls,
Of life once vast, of unmeasured souls.
Yet sages declare with a steady hand,
It’s not gods of earth, but the One command.
Our bodies hold letters, a silent song,
DNA scripts that sleep for long.
Experts call it “junk,” yet others say,
It hides our powers, locked away.
But no hand of Thoth, nor science’s key,
Can force the gates of eternity.
For these strands awaken when hearts align,
In love of another, the light will shine.
Kinetic gifts, a prophetic sight,
Are sparks revealed in the upper light.
Not tricks for the self, but tools to restore,
The bond of the soul to its root once more.
So seek not the gods of forgotten lands,
But gather your brothers, join hands.
For only in love, the sages say clear,
The dormant awakens, the angels appear.
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