Little child,
you were always made perfect
in My image.
Before the noise,
before the names,
before the world placed its hands upon your shoulders
and turned you into something smaller
than the infinite spark I breathed into you—
you were whole.
It was never your nature to fear.
It was never your calling to fold your wings
to fit inside another’s expectations.
But you learned the ways of the world—
the bending, the pleasing, the forgetting—
until you thought the echo was your voice
and the mask was your face.
Return, beloved.
Return to the rhythm of your laughter,
to the way the wind once carried you
as if it knew your name.
Return to the earth beneath your bare feet,
to the sunrise that used to astonish you,
to the games where time was an afterthought
and wonder was the only law.
Let the flame I left in your heart
rise without apology.
Let Love, your truest nature,
burn away the shadows others handed you.
Become again the wildfire—
not to destroy,
but to illuminate.
Set this world ablaze
with the freedom you remembered,
with the play you reclaimed,
with the love that can no longer be tamed.
There is no battle, child.
Only the playground of My creation.
Dance.
Shine.
Be.
You were never anything
but Mine
By Keith Brown