Rise

The reason why you charge forward with courage is to build your spiritual reserves. True spiritual reserves are not built in quiet temples or silent retreats - they are carved within you in the middle of nights when sleep does not come, etched into your marrow when your silent screams lose meaning, and cut from the slow-trickling minutes when no one is watching, yet you choose not to collapse.

Each time you fall and push yourself back to your feet, even if you take a few steps back - you gain grit, adding new depth to the wells within - yet no one sees this and often you do not even notice or feel it yourself. Sometimes your falls feel so harrowingly irrecoverable, like suffocating pressure on your lungs - as if colossal invisible hands were compressing you, crushing you, juicing your spirit as you gasp for a full, deep inhale.

But don't you see? Your spiritual reserves are what you build to gain more life force. Your life force is your aura - it is what draws all to you. Life force is not something you find, it is something you forge within yourself each time you rise when your mind tries to fool you that you no longer can - breath by breath, surrender by surrender, truth by truth. It is the very embodiment of your will to live, to survive, to honour your very existence.

Any true outlier knows the pain of being violently forged in crucibles far beyond the comprehension of those who have never set foot in the land of the unknown. Because when the unknown becomes more comfortable, the poetry is that you are no longer stepping out of your comfort zone - it becomes simply new territory. The edge the world fears is not a place of danger, but of awakening - the abyss does not devour you, it strips you of illusion so you can seize your true strength by the neck and tear through the constructs that do not apply at the jugular.

When you have survived clinging to the edge, your fingernails bleeding and torn off from trying to hold on - yet you have fallen into the abyss anyway - when you have inhaled every inch of darkness in the space others fear and begun your ascent once more, you carry something the world cannot name - because you carry within you the spiritual reserves to burn through ten thousand worlds, earnt by surviving the collapse of each world you once inhabited as a previous incarnation. To become the master of your inner domain, you must also become the monarch of corpses, sitting upon a throne built from the countless bodies of your former selves. The air in your lungs tastes richer - not because it is cleaner, but because it has passed through the furnace of your own repeated cataclysmic undoings. The aura that surrounds you now hums with a deeper frequency - fuller, more embodied, more layered, more true.

In a world of facades, rise - purified by your own authenticity and courage.