IN THE FORGE

I’m not waiting for the perfect moment anymore—this is where the fire starts.

I’m learning to love being a beginner,

standing at the bottom saying, this is where I enter.

No shame in the start, no fear in the climb—

my journey ain’t late, it’s actually right on time.

I’m not waiting for perfect. I’m choosing to move.

Choosing creation over needing to prove.

Raw work, rough cuts—yeah, I’m putting it all on display,

’cause the only way to grow is to show up every day.

Most people stay silent, scared to be seen—

scared to be average, or messy, or green.

But I’d rather be learning than dying inside,

rather fail in the open than succeed while I hide.

I don’t want a life built on scroll and consume.

I want paint on my hands and poetry filling the room.

DJ sets, spoken word, painting under the sun—

I’m creating a life where creation is the run.

I want days where my hours burn bright with creation,

where I mix movement, art, and imagination.

Not waiting for praise or permission to start—

but showing up right now with a wide-open heart.

Greatness ain’t born from applause or reward—

it’s hammered from effort, from heat, from the sword.

Nothing polished here—everything’s real.

Every moment is a chance to become what I feel.

This is the chapter where pressure meets flame,

where I build who I am, and not who I claim.

No crown yet, no throne, no glory or gorge—

just sweat, faith, and iron.

I am in the forge.