The Visitors
“The Visitors”
They hide,
because arrival
is not a flashing “Welcome” sign;
they remain compartmentilised.
what fits best for their safety?
remain hidden,
small and invisible;
sound like a magnet
sent to them, personalised
on a golden disc by the lower world
first drew them in;
the message
was received
just like this.
the sender,
they sensed
not so friendly.
they still tune in daily
they watch, they wait,
they listen, they never speak;
it seems like an eternity, yet,
nothing will deter them,
they are drawn into the Others
like a favoured home coming.
they are on their own
arriving in a strange world,
their entrance ignored masterfully
while the sender, hungry monsters
are consumed, lost
in their brain-sucking technology
too busy to understand
the approaching golden thrones
of other gods;
there are those
without provocation
who would shoot them down,
without them
even ushering a word -
ignoring their word, like an alien world
borders
are well and truly
crossed.
the visitors arrive
silently, most powerful
realing in those that matter most,
the prophesized left-overs;
the gods
are phoning home, it's been aeons,
they are on their call-back mission.
the natives
they sense,
not so friendly;
from above, they observe
there is much division
in the underworld
amongst the demons.
Candide Diderot. ‘25
reeling/realing.
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