in a world of personalities
everyone is polishing a crown
for a kingdom made of mirrors,
the wisest arranging silence
into something people can quote,
the nicest learning softness
until kindness becomes a costume,
the smartest sharpening light
into a blade that proves it can cut,
the learned stacking names
like stones on the shore
to say: I have crossed an ocean,
the generous opening both hands
while glancing toward the sky
for witnesses,
the mature standing very still
as if stillness itself
could be mistaken for arrival,
the courageous walking into fire
and hoping the smoke remembers them.
Everyone wants to be the one
whose presence leaves a dent,
the one whose name becomes a key,
whose shadow is admitted
into rooms
the body has yet to enter.
Here, the untitled blur first.
The shapeless are passed over
like rooms without signs.
A person may enter
and still go uncounted
until the world knows
what kind of person
it has been asked to see.
So we gather our traits
like flags in a storm:
wise, kind, brilliant, deep,
humble, brave, awakened, rare—
each word a little altar,
each altar asking:
see me,
name me,
place me among the living.
And the world, merciful in its method,
writes us down
by whatever we perform most clearly.
Here, to be someone
is to be seen as one
Your attention is the rarest currency. Thank you for the exchange.
— Mabst
Filed under: To Be Someone
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Elsewhere in the Studio
✧ Future Professions
Each entry in this collection names a role that becomes necessary when a society changes enough to require it.
Kirenya is a creative studio weaving fiction, nonfiction, and hybrid works that move between dream, structure, and signal. Through multiple pen names, we explore layered meaning across stories, essays, and experimental dispatches. Stay if it resonates.