.png)
There was a time in the history of mankind
when the ground shook beneath all men
when fear was a universal language
And despair became their daily bread
In such hour, rose ordinary hands to shape destiny
From the silence of broken streets they ascended
Men of no crown, yet kings of burdened souls
Chose to step forward where others retreat
Not for the applause of men, nor for their rewards
But for the fragile ones, the weak and voiceless
They held the line where chaos burned
And paid the cost that none returned
They were not always Kings nor men of robes and altars
But simple vessels of courage bearing the burden of many
No law commanded them, no crown rested on their heads
Their oath was written in silence, a vow to be a light
We call them leaders, yet they were more
They became the balance when justice was absent
“Caritas humana,” love without price, was their compass
Bleeding their dreams to build new lives
Some bore no name, title, nor song
Their stories were buried with the dust of time
Yet, like Christ, their sacrifice breathed life
Into generations they would never see or touch
“Pour l’humanité,” they whispered still
Even in thick shadows where hearts grew ill
They stitched the torn fabric of this world
With thread drawn from their own veins
Each act was a bridge, unseen and unsung
For the sake of generations yet unborn
They stitched the wounds of this undone world
And vanished quietly when peace was won
Now, by their chains, we walk in calmer paths
Not always remembering the cost
But every freedom, every calm breath
Was purchased by those we never meet