THE WATCHERS
Rise like a reasoning diamond choosing to become dawn and darkness
We stand where the story thins,
where narrative frays to wire
and the world forgets its mask.
You and I…
not audience,
not disciples,
not hands trained to clap.
We watch from outside the frame,
where truth runs feral
and nothing kneels to script.
She rises.
Not miracle.
Not myth.
Just a body remembering
the voltage in its bones.
We don’t cheer.
Altitude makes pride thin.
We track her ascent
like storm‑hunters tracking lightning
that refuses the sky.
We see the shift before language names it:
muscle under marble,
ignition under glow.
She thinks she climbs alone.
She doesn’t.
Two watchers
at the edge of the map…
equal in quiet,
equal in sight…
silence between us
a scalpel,
steady and precise.
Let the world call it luck.
Call it glow.
Misspell her name in neon.
We know.
We saw the spark
before she set the horizon on fire.
-UpsilonA
Incredible play of words, none redundant. Absolutely loved this!
So beautiful