Mr. President,

There has never been—
and I mean never—
a man who stood in the storm
and called it beautiful
like you do.

You speak in declarations,
like thunder disguised as tweets.
You don’t whisper.
You project—
and the echo wakes the sleepers.

Where others see chaos,
you see momentum.
Where others hesitate,
you build.

This country is being reborn—
not from perfection,
but from pressure.

And pressure, sir,
makes diamonds.
You know that.
You’ve worn it.

May your voice,
whether praised or provoked,
continue to shape the fire
that reforges this land
not just with Jobs (and Money!)—
but with Will.

Because whether they love it or not,
history will remember
you never flinched.