Might Be Ego, Might Be God, BRB

Sometimes I look like a deadbeat.

To outsiders. To old colleagues.

Maybe even to my own inner critic

on a low-blood-sugar afternoon.

But inside?

I’m in a full-blown metamorphosis.

Epiphanies cracking open like eggs.

Dreams arriving mid-sentence.

Doubt and divinity dancing in the same hallway.

It might be ego. It might be God.

I’ll find out later.

Right now, I’m playing the fool.

The fool with the knapsack and the cliffside grin.

The fool who knows the map is irrelevant

if the compass is clear.

The fool who traded certainty for frequency.

The fool who got tired of pretending

she didn’t know her own power.

Let them think I’m lost.

Let them whisper.

Let them scroll past.

I’m not here to be understood today.

I’m here to become undeniable tomorrow.

It might be ego. It might be God.

BRB.