1 min read
If I fall,
let it not be
like loose sand.
Let me fall
like a mountain.
Massive.
Unignorable.
Shaking the ground
that doubted my height.
Not collapsing in fear —
but descending
with gravity.
Owning the impact.
And when I rise,
let it not be
like a ripple.
Let me rise
like a tsunami.
Unstoppable momentum.
Built from depth.
Powered by pressure
no one saw gathering.
Silence first.
Then surge.
If I must burst,
let it not be
like a complaint.
Let me erupt
like a volcano.
Fire with purpose.
Lava rewriting landscapes.
Destruction
that creates new soil.
Intensity
that reshapes horizons.
And when I love —
let it not be
like a candle.
Flickering with approval.
Let me love
like a black hole.
Total.
Magnetic.
Consuming ego.
Swallowing distance.
Bending time
around devotion.
Because ordinary emotions
create ordinary lives.
Out-of-box living
demands elemental scale.
Mountain resilience.
Ocean force.
Volcanic truth.
Cosmic love.
If I fail,
fail fully.
If I grow,
grow violently.
If I feel,
feel infinitely.
Half-measures
produce half-legacies.
Nature never apologizes
for its magnitude.
Why should I?
The mountain does not whisper
when it moves.
The ocean does not negotiate
when it rises.
The volcano does not seek permission
to release pressure.
The black hole does not ask
what it may hold.
So neither will I.
When falling —
ground will remember.
When rising —
shorelines will adjust.
When bursting —
maps will change.
When loving —
universes will bend.
