FROM DUST TO FLAMES - A Peotry of defiance.
I was born in the quiet—ordinary, unseen,
A soul weighed down by the silence of “less.”
But even in the dark, a fire clenched its fists,
Refusing to bow, refusing to rest.
Hope became my weapon, forged in the pain,
A storm in my chest that cannot be chained.
I will not settle for the comfort of small,
Nor drown in the river where dreamers fall.
My voice was made to break the walls,
My steps rise when others crawl.
I may begin in doubt, trembling, unsure,
But I’ll march with courage, fierce and pure.
For I was not born to end in decay,
But to carve my mark in eternity’s clay.
Mediocrity may have been my first breath,
But greatness will be the name of my last.
Let the world remember, let the silence proclaim:
I entered as dust—yet I’ll leave as flame.
Written by Ubokobong Umoren
Deep
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67 days agoFROM DUST TO FLAMES - A Peotry of defiance.
I was born in the quiet—ordinary, unseen,
A soul weighed down by the silence of “less.”
But even in the dark, a fire clenched its fists,
Refusing to bow, refusing to rest.
Hope became my weapon, forged in the pain,
A storm in my chest that cannot be chained.
I will not settle for the comfort of small,
Nor drown in the river where dreamers fall.
My voice was made to break the walls,
My steps rise when others crawl.
I may begin in doubt, trembling, unsure,
But I’ll march with courage, fierce and pure.
For I was not born to end in decay,
But to carve my mark in eternity’s clay.
Mediocrity may have been my first breath,
But greatness will be the name of my last.
Let the world remember, let the silence proclaim:
I entered as dust—yet I’ll leave as flame.
Written by Ubokobong Umoren