This isn’t motivation.
This is testimony.
Even tired.
Even sedated.
Even when the white lights drained me —
I still spoke.
I still placed another brick.
Because in the end, it was never about the crowd.
It was about the volume.
The violent repetition of belief.
The ache of showing up when no one’s watching.
This is the gospel of volume.
The sound of a man building something sacred from nothing but a speaker, a balaclava, and faith.
