I didnβt build alone, though it felt that way,
Late nights, big ideas, unpaid.
Then I met you, builders too,
Carrying dreams still breaking through.
Different rooms, different names,
Same tight hope, same quiet flames.
We spoke in questions, wins, and doubt,
Pulled each other through burnout.
You shared the things no posts admit:
The fear, the math, the why of it.
The days growth stalled, the nights it flew,
The moments when you nearly quit too.
No competition, just respect,
A nod that says, I see the depth.
Founders know what silence costs,
What it takes to lead the lost.
You werenβt my crowd, but still my kind,
Sharp minds paired with human spine.
In every βkeep going,β every call,
You helped me stand when I might fall.
So hereβs to builders I met by chance,
In comment threads and quiet DMs.
Different communities, same fight
We rise together,
Line by line.
By Jason Strickland
The Art of Poetry Community