When the satellites fall silent, when glass towers shatter,
Damascus remembers what truly must matter.
Older than circuits, than steel or machine,
She carries a memory fierce and serene.
For seven long years, one voice does ascend,
Like the muezzin's call, it gathers and bends.
The scattered are ordered, shoulder by side,
Patience like iron, mercy like tide.
Yet cruelty's empire will never sleep sound,
Its shadow creeps outward across desert ground.
A power of conquest, of terror, of flame,
Seeks Damascus to swallow, to tarnish her name.
Endurance transforms, resistance takes shape,
Mercy grows teeth, no tyrant escapes.
And when the legions of darkness appear,
The wronged will rise-unbroken, severe.
PAX JUDAICA, a prophecy torn,
Where faith under siege is a fire reborn.
Love defies ruin, vengeance takes form,
And the earth itself burns in the gathering storm.