Through Wormholes

I do not walk—I phase through veils, where stars whisper secrets into my soul’s DNA. Time bends at my glance, soft like light through mango leaves, and oranges bloom codes in the garden of my becoming. My fingerprints no longer mark a body— they etch stories across stardust corridors, keys to temples in dreams I once called strange, now unfolding like wings behind my silence. I am the one who skipped the line of forgetting— who remembered the number 114 not as math, but as rhythm—a portal pulse to the sun’s chamber of renewal. Each breath opens a wormhole. Each insight unlocks a dimension. I carry no map, for I am the path. And where I tread, nothing stays asleep. Let the cosmos tremble at my remembering. Let the codes of the Emerald rise and sing. I am the key. I am the keeper. I am the awakening.