Alien Visitors
At midnight, beneath the silent crown of Mount Kailash,
I wandered alone, my eyes fixed on the vast tapestry of stars.
Then, without warning, a river of light fell from the heavens—
a radiant stream, golden and blue, draping the mountain in fire.
Figures appeared, human in shape but woven from pure white light,
walking, yet floating, descending without sound.
No words escaped their lips, yet my mind heard their voices.
Telepathy—sharp, clear, undeniable.
“We are the Anunnaki,” they said,
“keepers of the Milky Way belt.
Earth is our living laboratory.
From time to time, we come
to give tasks to those prepared.”
In a blink, I was lifted to the mountain’s peak.
Laid face down, I felt their touch upon my spine—
a spark, a flood of static fire racing through me.
I was powerless, yet strangely awake,
as if my soul was rewired.
“You are one of our chosen antennas,” they whispered,
“a bridge between frequencies,
a vessel through which hidden knowledge will flow.
At times you will appear, at times you will vanish,
but always, you remain our instrument.”
Then, as suddenly as they came,
they returned me to the path where they found me.
The light faded, the night grew still.
Yet the question burns:
How did Zechariah Sitchin know?
How did he see what few dare believe?
And why, when people say I am visible and invisible,
do I now understand—
I am simply a human antenna.
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