We are not just waiting.
We are holding on,
Claiming what will one day belong to us.
We carry hope like a sacred flame — hidden but burning.
The silence, the prayer, the light we kept holding onto and chasing.
We walked like prophets with empty hands,
Still believing the light would know our names,
And moving toward the light that once whispered us into being.
We do not dare lose our way, even in the dark.
We named every ache a promise.
We won't get weary,
Until the light is ours.
We will not stop,
Until we set the light.
The beaming light is the promise written on our bones.
We stepped unshielded into the blaze — toward ecstasy, not ease.
Still believing in the weight of the mystērion.
---
— Quinn ✍️✨
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 2:04 PM UTC
We are not just waiting.
We are holding on,
Claiming what will one day belong to us.
We carry hope like a sacred flame — hidden but burning.
The silence, the prayer, the light we kept holding onto and chasing.
We walked like prophets with empty hands,
Still believing the light would know our names,
And moving toward the light that once whispered us into being.
We do not dare lose our way, even in the dark.
We named every ache a promise.
We won't get weary,
Until the light is ours.
We will not stop,
Until we set the light.
The beaming light is the promise written on our bones.
We stepped unshielded into the blaze — toward ecstasy, not ease.
Still believing in the weight of the mystērion.
---
— Quinn ✍️✨
© 2025 Quinn. All rights reserved
