Your Cage...
STOP SCROLLING.
READ THIS BEFORE TIME SLAMS THE DOOR ON YOUR CAGE—AND THROWS AWAY THE KEY.
This isn’t some inspirational coffee mug garbage.
This is pulp-stained prophecy.
This is a punch to the soul’s gut.
This is the mirror you’ve been avoiding—and it just cracked.
Old Age ain’t golden. It’s rust.
It’s the prison built brick-by-brick out of your own flesh.
Skin that sags like tired curtains.
Knees that pop like firecrackers in a war zone.
Eyes that betray you, ears that mute the music, bowels that mutiny.
You used to run. Now you wince.
You used to laugh. Now you wheeze.
You used to dream. Now you forget why you walked into the room.
And the worst part?
You remember the freedom.
That’s the torture.
The door’s open just enough to remind you what it was like to sprint without pain. To see without squinting. To believe without doubting.
Welcome to your cage. Population: You.
But this isn’t just about flesh.
This is about the mind. The soul. The you beneath the wrinkles.
You were once a blade—cutting, shining, dangerous.
Now?
You’re dull. Fogged.
More butter knife than sword.
Age isn’t a number. It’s a life sentence.
And Time is the warden.
He don’t carry keys.
He carries a shovel.
But wait… don’t black out yet.
There’s a twist they don’t teach you in retirement brochures.
The bars aren’t locked from the inside.
And somewhere in the dust of your youth—you left a key.
A Truth you clung to when your hands didn’t shake.
A Light you glimpsed when you still ran toward it.
A Voice you heard before your ears started ringing.
And that Truth?
Still there.
Still breathing.
Still calling your name like thunder wrapped in whisper.
“Ask, and it will be given to you.
Seek, and you will find.
Knock… and the door WILL be opened.”
But here’s the part that’ll make your spine itch:
You have to keep knocking.
Not once. Not twice.
Not with your pinky, but with your soul.
Because the key?
It’s moving.
Shifting.
Watching.
And just when you think you’re too old, too late, too far gone…
You’ll hear it again.
A whisper behind your ear.
A shadow stretching beneath your feet.
A tremor in the tomb of your flesh.
Something’s coming.
But it’s not death.
Not yet.
It’s not the Reaper.
It’s the One who broke the cage.
And He’s holding something in His hand.
Something metal.
Something burning.
Something with your name engraved in fire.
But He’s not handing it over just yet.
He wants to see if you’ll reach for it.
If you’ll crawl through the creak in the cage door.
If you’ll knock one. more. time.
Because what happens next?
You’ll either find the Door that leads to Forever…
Or you’ll find out why the cage…
wasn’t locked from the inside.
TO BE CONTINUED… (…if you’re brave enough to read what comes next in these BLOG entries…)