Before the World Told You

There’s a place in every human

that isn’t polished

isn’t trying to be anybody. 

A dark cave of humility.

The kind you only find

after the world knocks you around,

and you finally quit pretending

you’re meant to fly above it all.

I tried that once—

hell, I tried it a lot.

Tried to out run the ache,

out achieve the doubt,

outshine the parts of me

that were still just a scared kid

looking for a place to belong to.

But the magic wasn’t up in the clouds.

It was down there,

deep in the dirt,

in the failing, in the falling,

in the hurting myself

with the hope of becoming someone.

And it was only when I loved myself

through the bruises,

through the “not enough,”

through the quiet shame

that I touched that cave.

That place where real courage begins,

where truth becomes beauty. 

Because that cave

that quiet cave of humility

isn’t a place you visit.

It’s a place you return to,

again and again,

until you remember

who you were

before the world told you

who to be.

I think most of us spend time trying to fly above the cave - through being busy, through proving and being seen. But maybe the cave isn't punishment, it's an invitation. To find your true self, to stand still long enough to remember who you really are.