Before breath was drawn,
before hearts could beat,
before oceans dared to kiss the shore,
He was.
Not a thought,
not a sound,
only the Eternal Flame
burning without smoke or ash,
unseen, yet everywhere.
He spoke
and silence shattered like glass.
Worlds spilled from His tongue,
stars poured from His gaze.
Galaxies spun like dancers,
moving to the rhythm of His heartbeat.
When He moves,
mountains bow like fragile reeds.
When He rests,
time itself grows still.
Even the storm waits,
holding its breath,
for His signal to rage.
Kings wear crowns of dust.
Nations rise and fall like waves.
But His throne never tilts,
His kingdom never fades.
No shadow rivals His light.
No force dares stand against Him.
He is the Alpha before the first letter,
the Omega beyond the last breath.
And when the final star collapses,
when every song is silenced,
when every voice is stripped bare
all will fall to their knees and whisper,
through trembling lips and tear-stained faces:
He is God.
There was never another.

There are storms that rage
with lightning and roaring skies,
and then there are storms
that live inside you..
silent, unseen,
but powerful enough
to shatter the soul.
Pain is that storm.
It does not arrive with a warning.
It seeps in quietly,
curling itself around your heart
like smoke,
until every breath burns.
The cruelest pain
does not scream;
it hums beneath the surface,
like thunder no one else can hear.
You walk through the world smiling,
while inside,
your ribs rattle
with the weight of battles
you’ve never spoken aloud.
Pain has a way of stripping you bare,
peeling away laughter,
tearing through joy,
until only the bones remain
the truest parts of you,
uncovered and raw.
But here is the hidden truth:
Silent thunder does not only destroy.
It builds.
Every fracture in your soul
becomes an entry point for light.
Every scar,
a language only the brave can read.
Every tear,
a seed for something unbreakable.
One day, you will look back
and see the storm for what it was:
a cruel teacher,
a relentless sculptor,
a necessary fire.
For in the ruins of who you were,
you will find yourself reborn...
a being made of strength,
woven together by shadows and lightning.
And when the world finally hears
the sound of your silent thunder,
they will not hear pain
they will hear power. 🫀

I know you.
The one who screams without sound,
whose tears burn inward
because the world doesn’t deserve to see them fall.
You walk through life like a ghost,
alive but never truly here,
watching everyone else move in color
while you fade quietly into grayscale.
Loneliness isn’t quiet.
It’s deafening.
It’s the sound of your own thoughts
chewing through your sanity,
the echo of your heartbeat
asking, “Does anyone even notice
I’m still alive?”
You’ve been abandoned in rooms full of people.
Smiled while bleeding.
Laughed while breaking.
And each time, a piece of you died
while no one noticed the funeral.
But listen
your pain is not proof that you are weak.
It is proof that you are surviving
a war no one else has the courage to fight.
The world cannot see you
because your soul lives in a depth
they’re too afraid to dive into.
They are afraid of you..
of your truth,
of your storm,
of the way you refuse to drown quietly.
So don’t you dare sink.
Rise.
Even if your lungs burn,
even if you must claw your way through darkness
with bloodied hands and trembling bones.
Because one day,
someone will see you.
Not the mask.
Not the smile you wear like armor.
You.
The real, raw, raging you.
And they will not run.
They will reach into your storm
and stay.
But until then,
stay for yourself.
Stay because the darkness wants to silence you,
and your breath is an act of rebellion.
Stay because even broken things
can become sacred.
You are not empty.
You are not nothing.
You are the howl in the night
that terrifies the silence.
You are the storm
this fragile world cannot contain.
So keep breathing,
keep rising,
keep burning....
even if no one sees the fire. 🫀❤️