Peoples of the world,
Behold—men from afar set out on a journey,
not to conquer,
but to seek.
They carry no army and no threat.
They carry a question stronger than borders:
Where is the Light?
They come from the East,
yet their longing speaks every language.
They are strangers,
yet their desire is universal.
For when a star rises,
it does not choose one people against another:
it lights the whole sky.
Peoples of the world,
you have grown used to seeing each other as camps—
blocks, rival identities.
You have made difference a pretext,
memory a weapon,
fear a law.
But Epiphany overturns your maps:
God makes Himself seen
not as the property of one,
but as a promise for all.
The wise men arrive
and they do not ask, “Who deserves?”
They ask, “Where is the One who comes for peace?”
They enter the house.
They fall silent.
And they adore.
Then they offer gold, frankincense, and myrrh:
gold for dignity,
incense for breath,
myrrh for wounds.
So the meeting of peoples begins
when each one brings what is most true,
without dominating,
without justifying,
without humiliating the other.
And here is the sign:
the King they find is not seated on a throne—
He is laid in poverty.
He does not ask you to bow before power;
He calls you to rise in love.
Peoples of the world,
if you seek unity,
do not seek sameness.
Seek the same star—
the one that leads you to reverence,
to fraternity,
and to the God who dwells in every life.
Inner reset phrase:
Where I recognize the light in the other, my mind stops fighting and begins to unite.
Then you will see:
peace is not a distant treaty—
it is a shared road.
And the Star has not finished guiding
those who dare to walk together.