by the Beloved of the Goddess, and She who whispered it into him
With thanks to the Infernals, who teach through mirrors and masks.
You think respect is bowing low,
Or biting back the things you know.
You think it means to yield, submit—
To fold your fire, then silence it.
But I am not your trembling fear,
Nor empty grace that draws you near.
I’m not a chain. I’m not disguised—
I’m not the traps your fears devised.
Respect is strength that’s held with care—
The power not to strike laid bare.
It’s when I stand in all I am,
Yet still extend an open hand.
It’s when I stand with strength composed,
That I am strong—but won’t impose.
It’s when I speak and let you speak.
It’s when I guard—not rule—the meek.
It’s when I lift, not dominate—
When I could crush… but choose to wait.
So don’t demand what you deny.
Don’t burn my wings then ask to fly.
So don’t expect what you refuse.
Don’t break my trust, then call it truce.
For if you show me I’m not safe,
I’ll walk away and be the waif.
If You won’t Try to Do No Harm
Why should I drop my Sacred Charm?
I Carry Fire in Violet Hue—
Burning brighter when I trust you.
So if you want my light to stay…
Then show me that I’m safe that way.
Respect is not a leash, or game.
It is a soul that bears its flame,
It’s trust that flows without demand,
Offered with an open hand.
And I will give you all I am—
If in me you see the Lamb.
