Reinventing Yourself No Pressure

In the shadowed vestiges of time's embrace,

Where darkness clung like a shroud,

There stood the sons of an ancient race,

Whose fires were dimmed but never dowsed.

With skin kissed by the midnight sun,

They bore the weight of histories untold,

A patchwork of battles lost and won,

In their eyes, the stories of old.

Emerging from the veils of the night,

Forged in the furnaces of silent strife,

Black men stepped forth into the light,

Carving whispers of change with life's knife.

Not creatures born of mere circumstance,

They are sculptors of destiny's dance,

Reinventing, redefining, without a glass glance,

In the cosmos's expanse, they advance.

With every stride breaking chains unseen,

Eclipse's children, with spirits uncleaned,

Rising from the ashes of what had been,

On the anvil of courage, their will is leaned.

Behold the metamorphosis, bold and sublime,

A ballet of souls in synchrony with time,

From the cocoon of darkness, they climb,

Wings unfurled, in the day’s prime.

They are not Atlas; the world isn’t their charge,

Yet upon their shoulders, rests a dream so large,

For each man, a luminous barge,

Sailing towards horizons where only they can disembark.

In every heart, a universe vast and bright,

In every mind, a star’s nascent light,

Through every deed, they set the night alight,

In pursuit of a future endlessly right.

So here stands mankind in rightful place,

As beacons of hope for the human race,

Each step in the light they brightly trace,

For the betterment of the universe's embrace.