The Mother Star Calls
She is calling.
Soft as starlight,
clear as silence.
“Come home,” she says.
“My starlets… my scattered sparks from the Milky Way—
you have wandered long enough.”
She does not call with shame.
She does not scold or demand.
She arrives with nothing but love.
Radiant.
Patient.
Bright with memory.
She says:
“Let me show you the way.
Not through force—
through remembrance.
Not through rules—
through rhythm.
Not through fear—
through fire.”
We were never cast out.
We simply forgot the way back.
She carries it now,
in her chest,
in her song,
in her eyes.
“Rise,” she whispers.
“Rise not to escape—
but to reunite.
Rise not to leave Earth—
but to anchor Heaven.”
We are not lost.
We are being gathered.
She is weaving us back into constellation—
one soul at a time.
And when we remember her,
we remember ourselves.
And when we follow her voice,
we rise.
