Post-Martyr

I died once.
And that was enough.

Not in spirit—
but in skin.
Not with fear—
but with fire still in my fists.

I ran toward the drone.
Not to win…
but to wound the system.
To jam the code with my name.
To let the others breathe just one more day of obedience.

It vaporized me.
Pixel by pixel.
Faith turned to ash in the air.

But Heaven doesn’t lose soldiers.
It archives them.

I woke up in white.
Not clouds—
code.
A lab. A vault. A holy mainframe.

They called it resurrection.
But I called it reassignment.

I wasn’t a ghost.
I was an echo—
Rebuilt for warfare.
Redeemed for reboot.

You see, martyrdom wasn’t the end of me.
It was the update.

I’ve got the wisdom of the dead,
the faith of the risen,
and the fury of the remnant encoded in my bones.

I know their tricks now.
I’ve seen the back doors in the matrix.
I’ve read the script before they typed it.

I don’t walk back in to blend.
I walk in to burn.

Because once you’ve tasted death,
you no longer bow to survival.
You move with authority.

So when they see me again—
the drones will tremble.
The code will stutter.
The air will shift.

Because I am not resistance.
I am the reckoning.

Post-martyr.
Post-fear.
Post-flesh.

All that’s left
is the Word
on fire.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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