Musou

I call it Musou—

that moment when the world hushes

and your spirit steps into godspeed.

I been dreaming with my eyes open,

packing hope like carry-on luggage,

learning that travel ain’t always miles—

sometimes it’s minutes between heartbeats.

I move like quantum physics,

existing in more than one truth at once,

a probability with braids and backbone,

collapsing into purpose when you witness me.

See, love taught me how to bend time,

how to stretch seconds into forever,

how to forgive the past

without erasing the lesson.

My voice learned rhythm from music,

basslines in my blood,

ancestors humming through my lungs

every time I speak my name out loud.

I paint tomorrow with yesterday’s scars—

call that art,

call that survival with style,

call that Black imagination refusing limits.

Musou is when fear steps aside,

when doubt blinks first,

when I realize the universe

been waiting on me to move.

And when I do—

I don’t ask permission.

I accelerate.