Toward More

Looking back, I realize

that I always believed that I was meant for more.

From my earliest memories — I just knew.

No matter the poverty I was born into,

the sense of lack that permeated every decision my family or I faced……

I felt it.

As I journeyed from childhood to adulthood,

and the pull from fantasy to practicality grew stronger.

As the fundamental human existence proceeds from imagination,

It collides seamlessly against reality, against conformity,

against mundanity.

And yet, somewhere between the hunger and the hope,

I began to understand that “more” wasn’t promised — it was a choice.

Every day, I shuffled myself from fragments of dreams and borrowed faith.

I learned to speak the language of resilience,

To find stark beauty in the unleavened,

To trust the quiet whisper that said, “keep going.”

The world around me trumpets limits,

But my mind composes galaxies.

For me, imagination is not an escape — it is survival.

That dreaming is not denial — It is defiance.

Even when reality bruises my charred heart

I refuse to stop believing in the possibility of more.

At the edge of everything I longed for,

I always divined that the “more” was about wealth or esteem.

I know now, it was about freedom.

The freedom to become, to choose, to believe.

To turn the ache of yesterday — Into the purpose of today.

To finally understand,

that I was never running from my beginnings,

I was running toward myself.