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“Be nice. Be kind. Be soft. Be gentle.”

She answered without words—
only a slow, knowing nod,
as if she had heard this long before
in a quieter place.

Yes… I will be gentle—
not in surrender,
but in mastery.

Gentle enough to let your words
pass through me like wind,
your intentions dissolving
before they can take form.

Gentle enough
to receive your fire without fear—
to transmute it,
to return it to the world
as something truer,
something purified.

And when she destroys,
it is born from that same love—
the love that once taught her
to hold what was never hers,
to carry pain so quietly
she mistook it for her own.

Until she saw it—
clearly, finally—

this was never mine to bear.

It was yours to carry.
Yours to reckon with.
Yours to become through.

Welcome home—
not to me,
but to yourself.

To the presence of a woman
who does not belong to your wanting,
but to her own becoming.

She is devoted—
not to pleasing,
but to the quiet calling within,
the voice that speaks in stillness
and answers only to the divine.

One God,
known by many names—
moving through her
in countless forms,
across paths that diverge and return,
lifetimes folding into one.

She walks them all
with open hands—
untouched,
unclaimed,
and wholly her own.