
✨ The Day Would Come✨
By Jules-Scott
(Poem / Reflection / Spoken Word – 2025)
Intro
There are beliefs that live inside us long before we have words.
This piece was born from one of those beliefs.
It’s for anyone who has ever felt unseen, unheard, uncertain —
but still, somehow, believed that the day would come.
And maybe, just maybe, that day is closer than you think.
I always knew.
Not with evidence.
Not with reason.
Not with anyone whispering, hold on, it will get better.
I just knew.
That one day someone — or something — would see me.
Not the mask.
Not the noise.
Not the silence I hid behind.
Me.
It’s strange, isn’t it?
How a human being can walk for years carrying only a belief —
not even hope, not even certainty —
just the raw conviction that this cannot be all there is.
That belief — wild, foolish, stubborn — carried me.
Through nights when my body no longer felt like my own.
Through silences that pressed down like heavy walls.
Through the empty spaces where love had vanished.
And still —
I found echoes of hope
in songs sung by strangers,
in films that cracked me open,
in speeches that named what I hadn’t dared to say.
In the trembling voice of a woman on a stage,
or a line whispered on screen that made me feel seen.
Oprah. Billie. Baldwin. Nina.
Performances that reminded me —
I was not alone.
That belief was stitched together
with light from a thousand borrowed stars.
I had no reason to believe. But I did.
And sometimes belief is stronger than proof.
Sometimes belief is the only bridge
between one heartbeat and the next.
That belief became my breath.
My pulse.
My survival.
And now here I am. Alive. ✨
Not because the world ever handed me certainty.
Not because the path was easy or kind.
But because I never stopped believing
in the day that would come.
And it did. 🌱
It wasn’t a person.
It was a moment. A stillness. A truth reflected back.
It was me.
Because before someone sees you,
you have to see yourself.
And I see you now, little one —
the boy who didn’t belong but still dared to dream.
You were never wrong to believe.
Because belief is not passive.
It burns.
And from that fire, I rose. 🔥
And if you are reading this — maybe your day is closer than you think.
Hold on.
Breathe.
Believe.
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Inspiration, your mission bro! Inspiration, the word comes from latin, inspirare, which means literally breathing life into other living beings, humans around you. Just like Jezus did. And that’s what you can be, will be! Bless your heart!😍Arnold
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lieve Angelique,
Your words touched me so deeply, I had to take a quiet moment before replying. What you shared is more than a comment — it is a gift, and I receive it with a grateful heart.
The way you described your inner child finally being heard and proven right moved me to tears. That journey of carrying something so true inside you, while the world told you otherwise, is one I know well. To read that my story resonated with yours, that it gave a spark of recognition, makes me feel less alone too.
You called me a rare angel, but I believe angels recognize each other. What you wrote was so open, so full of courage and tenderness, that I felt your soul as well. I am grateful beyond words that our paths crossed, even here, in this space.
Thank you for trusting me with your truth. Thank you for reminding me why I write. And thank you for showing me that resonance is not just a word, but a living, breathing connection between souls who recognize each other across time and space.
dikke Brasa,
Jules-Scott
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{{{brasa}}}
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