I was once told that
extreme success is 99% luck—
as if effort is a footnote,
and passion just filler
for those who didn’t draw
the golden straw.
As if the stars must first
shake your hand
before the world even sees you.
It stuck with me—
not because I believed it,
but because some days
it feels true.

I’ve watched lesser hearts rise
on borrowed beats and poisoned messages,
while I carve myself
into every chord and line—
honest, raw,
but rarely seen.
Sometimes it feels
like I’m pouring fire
into a world so drenched in noise,
it can’t feel the flames.
It’s deflating.

I keep going, though.
Because there’s therapy in melodies,
peace in these pages,
a grounding I can’t find anywhere else.
This art steadies me—
keeps me tethered
when life tries to drift
too far into the fog.
Each lyric a confession,
each rhythm a reminder
that I’m still here.
Still fighting.
Still healing.

That makes the numbers 
lose importance:
Luck
Skill
Willpower
Pain
Pleasure

None of that compares
to what this gives back.

I want to inspire.
I want to give vision
to eyes blinded in routine,
hope to hearts
starved of truth.
To say something
that cuts through
what’s easy and empty
and speaks to the soul.

I’m learning more and more that
I may never rest comfortably
in that 99% luck
column for success—

though 99 is just another number.

A number the Shepherd
would gladly leave behind
to find the one.
                            
                               I am that one.
                              I am found.

That’s all the “luck” I’ll ever need.
Blessed…to be a blessing.
That’s why I do this.
That’s why I can’t stop.