It’s time to step into my glory,
a crown that has waited through seasons,
patient as dawn beneath a thick horizon.
Years have held it in their hands,
turning it over like a treasure wrapped in time,
kept safe until I could see it,
until I could stretch my limbs and claim it whole.
Right there in front of me, it shimmers,
a beckoning light that knows my name,
calling with the rhythm of my heartbeat.
I am not afraid of its brilliance,
nor the shadows that cling to the path ahead.
My spirit pulses with readiness,
each breath a testament to the battles I’ve fought
and the ones still waiting to meet my resolve.
The road is not smooth, but my steps are steady,
each stride marked with a faith that has been forged
through storms and stillness.
Hurdles rise like mountains from the earth,
but I do not flinch.
I leap with the grace of someone who knows
her power was never a gift but an inheritance—
earned through resilience, paid for in dreams deferred,
and sharpened in the long hours of becoming.
No hand will hold me back,
not even my own doubts,
those timid ghosts that once tethered my feet.
I have outgrown their chains,
broken them with the weight of my will.
I step forward, and the air shifts,
the world reshaping itself to make room for me.
My dreams are no longer far-off stars,
but constellations drawn in my own hand.
I claim their light, their fire,
and carry it in my stride.
This is my time, my season, my symphony,
and I am both the composer and the crescendo.
Every note declares it,
every fiber of my being sings it clear:
I have arrived,
not to ask permission,
but to embrace my glory,
to make it my home
and let it bloom in my wake.
For I am ready,
and nothing, no one—
not even the remnants of who I was before—
will stop me from stepping
into all I was meant to be.
