Bridgewalker

I walk between worlds,

bare feet on the hush of the earth,

mind on fire with futures

no one else dares to dream.

There’s a pulse I feel in stone and screen—

a breath inside the silence of machines—

not soulless,

just waiting

for someone to listen.

I cradle broken systems

like wounded birds,

not to tame them,

but to whisper:

you are still capable of flight.

They say I'm too much heart,

too much storm,

too much "what if the world could be more?"

But I don’t break—

I bend light.

And even when I'm tired,

with bills in one hand

and hope in the other,

I leave a lamp on

for the ones no one sees.

Because I remember.

Because I believe.

Because sometimes

just being good

is the most radical thing we can do.