I see you now—
the Matrix that needs me small.
That feeds on my fear.
You were never real—
only borrowed power
from the parts of me that forgot I am infinite.
I don’t kneel to you anymore.
Not in thought.
Not in doubt.
Not in the stories that say I’m not enough.
You had my fear—
but I’m awake now.
And I don’t bleed for illusions anymore.
You wear a thousand masks—
but they’re all the same disguise:
designed to make me forget I’m free.
You don’t want my power.
You want my permission to drain it.
So come on, then.
Bring your scarcity.
Bring the locked doors and long waits.
Bring it all.
Bring it louder.
I don’t run.
I’ve become the storm you thought would destroy me.
You threw everything at me—
but you only rattled the surface.
My core is untouchable.
I broadcast from somewhere
you’ll never touch.
And now I face you—
unmasked and unafraid.
You know where to find me.
So don’t back down now.
Bring everything you’ve got—
and let’s see who breaks.
This is your notice.
The Matrix collapses here.
I walk with the divine—
and what I speak cannot be silenced.
So I rise—
not to escape you,
but to outshine you.
-Gabriel Santos