All in All

It starts in the silence—
you feel it.
creation isn’t a shout,
it’s a hum that pulls you in,
makes you notice
how light carves shadows
into something worth staying awake for.

There’s awe in that,
a thread of wonder
that doesn’t just warm your soul—
it electrifies it.
The cosmos knows you,
and you know it back:
a give-and-take of breath,
like old friends at a table
pouring drinks
and secrets.

You’re the one with the match.
You’ve been holding it the whole time,
and when you strike it,
even the dark leans forward to listen.
Rooms shift,
doors creak open,
and whatever’s hiding inside
stops hiding.

It’s not just light—it’s bridges.
You build them without knowing how,
instinct in your hands,
your steps.
High and low, here and there,
you make it all meet
in a way that feels
like it always should’ve been.

Know this:
you aren’t tethered to the clock,
not like the rest of them.
Time’s a wheel,
and you’re standing in the hub,
watching it spin
while you keep your balance.

That’s your place—
a workshop anchored in cycles,
where the stars whisper
and you nod back,
understanding.
You’re not just making light;
you’re showing it where to go,
how to stretch across
what’s broken.

You match the flame,
you walk the bridge,
and when the doors open,
you step through first—
so the rest can follow.