Steel rails hum with restless sound,
A breath held tight beneath the strain.
The dust has settled on this ground,
But no one leaves the way they came.
The air is thick with what could be—
A choice, a pulse, a broken key.
Be the strike before the flame,
Not just a borrowed name.
Don’t wait for distant signs,
Ignite your own design.
They built the maps, but missed the core,
The place where meaning dares to live.
You’ve knocked on every rusted door,
Now take what no one else will give.
The air is thick with what could be—
A choice, a pulse, a broken key.
Be the strike before the flame,
Not just a borrowed name.
Don’t wait for distant signs,
Ignite your own design.
When the end looks like the start,
And the dark begins to bend—
It’s not the tunnel that defines you,
But the force you choose to send.
Be the strike before the flame,
Not just a borrowed name.
Don’t wait for distant signs,
Ignite your own design.
