"Did I not tell ye that ye are Gods?"

So why do you shackle me to the soil—

Grounded,

Rooted so deep, I forget I have wings.

Why am I confined to the bottom

When my soul aches for sky—

For cosmos—

For the high-highness of my own becoming?

“The kingdom of God is within you,” they say.

So why am I taught to stay small?

To whisper my name

Like it’s a curse I mustn't speak too loud?

Be humble, they say.

But they don't mean balance—

They mean silence.

They mean shrink.

They mean "don’t dare look too divine."

My confidence reduced to ash

Because “Do not boast.”

So… what?

I can believe in myself

But only in moderation?

I’m not allowed to know myself too well?

Not allowed to stand tall in the mirror

And recognize God staring back?

Why the push for modesty,

For apologies I never owed?

Why must I dim for their comfort?

It is not my job to say sorry

For being born with light in my bones,

For being handed fire from the stars.

I did not come here to bury my brilliance,

To tuck my talents into shadows

Like dirty secrets wrapped in shame.

No—

I was sculpted from intention,

Trusted with gifts to be seen,

Heard,

Felt.

So I will not fold.

I will not flinch.

I will not forget

That even stillness carries the sound of thunder.

I am.

And I will be.

Unapologetically.