All At Once

He moves before the echoes call,

before the world confirms his role.

No signs, no proof, no promised end,

yet forward still—again, again.

The road is quiet, dry, and bare,

no cheers, no whispers in the air.

Each step a seed the ground ignores,

each day a test, a closed-tight door.

He wonders, waits—yet does not stop,

the mountain mocks, yet he won’t drop.

The hands of time move slow, then stall,

as if to say: "This leads to fall."

But patience laughs—it knows the game,

what’s dull today will burst in flame.

One crack, one spark, the dam gives way,

and floods him with the world’s "hooray!"

Too late for them—he's known for years,

success first whispers, then it cheers.

It happens slow, then all at once,

like dawn that takes the night and runs.