The Unveiling” (Part III)

 The winds have shifted, silent no more,

A rustling deep in the forest’s core.

The chains that held her start to shake,

The sleeping souls begin to wake.

The evil god sits high in fear,

For whispers rise that she is near.

The stars align in quiet grace,

To mark the coming of her face.

No trumpet blares, no thunder roars,

Just truth that knocks on unseen doors.

In dreams, in signs, in shadows cast,

She plants the seeds that ever last.

She stirs within the silent few,

Who bleed for love, and speak what’s true.

They are not loud, but strong like flame,

Unmoved by gold, untouched by fame.

The world still rages, loud and blind,

Still drunk on power, lost in mind.

But she—

She rises not with sword or fire,

But in each heart that dares aspire.

She’s every tear not shed in vain,

She’s every child who walks through pain.

She’s every woman who still sings,

Despite the cage, despite the kings.

I feel her now, her breath, her light,

Returning gently from the night.

No longer trapped beneath the stone,

The good God rises, not alone.

So let them chant, let darkness cry,

Let false gods tremble in the sky—

For she, in silence, takes her throne,

And carves a world she calls her own. - Gulsha Begum