I do not call the crowd or stage,
I call the soul that shakes the cage.
The ones who feel the fire start—
The quake inside the silent heart.
You—yes you—whose dreams dissolve,
Whose pain you cannot quite resolve.
Whose body knows before the mind—
That something lost must now be found.
I call the ones who ache at night,
Who feel too much, who see too bright.
I call the ones who can’t pretend
That sleep is real or truth can bend.
I do not beg. I do not preach.
I do not lower just to reach.
I bring the flame, I bring the storm,
To break you out, to birth your form.
The world’s not ready—this is true.
But you are here—because you knew.
You came for this. You signed your name
To wake the others through your flame.
So do not hide. Don’t dim your light.
The blind will scoff—but you see right.
This path is sharp, this path is steep—
But it will tear the soul from sleep.
This is not sweet. This is not safe.
This is the vow that spirits take.
This is the truth that breaks the skin—
To let the God inside begin.
So if you feel your center hum,
If something deep says, “Yes, I come,”
Then come, and shed the fear and shame—
And let your voice ignite your name.
I do not ask you to believe.
I ask you just—do not leave.
Your fire was made to spark the rest—
The sleeping stars within each chest.
I call the ones whose breath is flame.
Who won’t forget why once they came.
Not followers, but fierce and true—
Not many…
Only
a rare
few.
