The angels can't carry

Hey, weren’t those angels from heaven? 😇 We danced under a sky that felt like prophecy fulfilled ✨ Their hands lifted the burdens that had been sitting on my bones for years 🕊️ For a moment, I breathed like kings do 👑 I said, "Angel, so this is it. God finally sent help." 🙏 The angel looked at me. Not with pity. With knowledge older than time 🌒 He said: "Your glory is not feather-weight. It is iron. ⚔️ It is mountain. 🏔️ It is throne-metal. 👑 If I carry you now, my wings will break 🪽 and you will fall with me. Glories like yours are not escorted. They are forged 🔥 Do not name this delay. This is the corridor to the throne room 🕯️ If I lift you now, you will burn bright for a season and return to sand. ⌛ Chris Timkat… become." 🌹 Then he ascended with the others. And I remained on the earth. Alone. With the truth I did not want. 🌑 I wept. 😔 I wept like a man chosen but not yet crowned. It tore. It bruised. It hollowed something inside me. 💔 I know he was right. But truth does not stop pain. It only gives it meaning. 🌧️ I have thought about stopping. Laying down the sword ⚔️ Choosing an easier name, a smaller destiny. But no. ❌ I want to win. 🏆 I want the earth to speak my name with