What if we could all return to the child we once were?
The one who existed before outside forces molded us
into the version they wanted us to be.
How much more joy, compassion, and kindness
would fill the world?
Back to the version of ourselves
who lived through imagination and play.
Who made up stories,
ran barefoot through the woods,
made messes, got their hands dirty,
fell down—
and got back up to try again.
The version who didn’t care what others thought.
Who asked why when the answers didn’t make sense,
and approached what was different with curiosity
rather than judgment.
The version who wasn’t afraid to use their voice.
This is the version I want to know.
The authentic, the messy, the wild, the radiant side.
The human that still lives within us all,
though we so often lose sight of it along the way.
