From ashes, I rise, no crown, no name,
Forged in fire, untamed by shame.
Each fall, a step, each scar, a light,
In darkness, I carve my endless fight.

I seek no praise, no fleeting fame,
I burn within, I am my flame.
Not for the weak, nor for the crowd—
I rise alone, unbroken, proud.

The world may tremble, the storm may roar,
But I will stand, forever more.
For strength is born from deepest pain,
And through the loss, I’ll rise again.

I lost, I broke, I burned to the ground,
Yet from my ashes, my crown unbound.
Through fire and fury, I carved my way,
Not for the world, but for the price I’d pay.

With sharpened mind and heart untamed,
I faced the void and felt no shame.
I reach for heights no soul has known,
Not for praise, but to claim my throne.

Where meaning blooms through love and pain,
Where every scar is gold to gain.
I’ll fall again—that truth I own,
But in each fall, my strength has grown.

I rise for me, for kin, for fire,
To light the path and take it higher.
Not for envy, nor for fame,
But for love, for will, for the name.

So let them watch, let them see,
What man can be when truly free,
When fire transforms to endless light,
When loss becomes the fuel for might.

Golden I rise, no crown I need,
The gold within is all I’ll heed.
I build, I climb, I break the chain—
For in my soul, the gold remains.

every time you drink the sea
i am left on an island
and i walk for miles to find the shore
and when i look up to see the sky
you swallow it whole
and i walk for miles to find the horizon
and when i look to the stars
you eat them, one by one
and i walk for miles to find the moon
and when i feel the tides begin to turn
you drink the sea
and i am left on a island
and i walk for miles to find the shore

and when i look up to see the sky...



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ef0uZPNltE

I

It rained at each night's birth, and I wonder how things never go as we
intended. Each howl is a reminder of how dark it gets as we soldier along
the low visibility from the meconium we dump on ourselves. But we
tunnel our way into that night sky, lapping up any spark and shadow --
teetering between what is and was become us.

It shouldn't matter because it never did, not to you,
not as much as it did to me. That's why the day came to you much earlier,
and yet the rain still poured, murky and no matter how you clean it, it stains

between skin and nails, and that spot where it all begins,
between lung and air. I could breathe it in
and drown out of water.

II

Funny as the rain goes farther away, thunder is heard more distinctly.
Still trying to breathe, that was when you cut us off. One by one,
choking through the daylight at night, while the windows shatter
on the white-tile floor. "Water!

I need water!" someone shouted. It was warm
and cold at the same time, what my insides
were telling me my outsides were feeling. Just then, some semblance
of progression, a rhythm that tethered complacency began
to show. Something made me believe
it isn't suppose to be like this, but nothing
showed me otherwise.

The rain has stopped.

III

Blood and glass litter the once pristine and antiseptic. Shards
get missed, but it doesn't matter. No one talks about those.
It's made for an easy clean-up. It all sounds fishy. The smell
was the problem,

stuck to our hair, our skin, even the fresh linen
covering our nakedness did not escape the memory
of the congealed and spent. Our petrichor
binds us all, until we're not anymore.

dredge in mud
knee deep
but sky high

trudge the sludge
plod the crud
and form tracks

nearly sighted
look far
to reach

growth will follow