They came in the hush before dawn,
feet silent on the breath of stars,
a whisper wrapped in moonlight’s shawl,
their eyes the language of galaxies
Through the veil of incense and bone,
they called me—
not in thunder,
but in the tremble of leaves,
in the lullaby pulse of oceans
sung in my veins
“You are ready,” they said,
not as command
but as birthright
The drumbeat in your chest
is the code to the cosmos
Your scars are sacred maps
Your tears—baptisms of flame
Your silence, a scroll of untold truths
etched in divine ink
They braided my soul with starlight,
dressed me in shadows and sun,
anointed my crown with the waters
of all who survived,
all who dreamed,
all who danced barefoot
through the fires, they refused to fear
“Take off,” they said,
and the sky bent low to kiss my feet
The wind wrote my name in a thousand tongues
Mountains bowed
Time stood still
My spirit caught flame—
not to burn,
but to illuminate
No longer tethered by doubt,
no longer asking for permission
to be the storm and the calm,
I rose.
Not as an escape,
but as becoming
I am the culmination of every prayer
whispered under an eclipse
I am the exhale of ancestors
who knew this moment would come
I am the echo of drums older than memory,
the flight of wings made of faith
They gave me the signal—
not to flee,
but to claim
To transcend,
to remember,
to begin
I am ready
The sky remembers me.
The stars have cleared the path
And I—
I soar—
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