Slow Burn of Genius

instagram: @emfernandesart

They said we’d fade. That past the proving years, we’d lose our spark. That our edge would dull, our rhythm breaks, our art goes quiet.

But they were never in the fire with us.

They don’t know the heat. They only know the echo of it.

We don’t burn out.

We burn through.

This isn’t youth’s frenzy—it’s evolution’s grind.

The rush is gone, but what’s left is cleaner. Sharper. Undeniable.

We don’t lose our edge—we forge it deeper, stroke by stroke, year by year.

This is the slow burn of genius.

It doesn’t scream. It scars.

It doesn’t chase. It claims.

They tried to tether us to timelines. Deadlines.

Tried to shrink our process to fit their windows of relevance.

But we don’t create for clocks or crowds.

We create because we need to.

What we carry—It’s not a phase.

It’s not a trend.

It’s the kind of fire that never asks permission.

It devours doubt.

It remakes us, again and again.

They said,

“You’ll peak early.”

“You’ll lose your spark.”

“You’ll fade.”

We say—watch us rise.

Not all brilliance is blinding.

Some of it burns beneath,

Patient, primal, permanent.

So no, we’re not fading.

We’re not through.

We are now stepping into our sharpest form.

Not chasing the flame.

Becoming it.