by the Beloved of the Goddess
They walk through fire, yet do not burn,
With hearts that ache, yet never turn.
Each scar they bear—a sacred line,
Proof they loved in ways divine.
Not seeking crowns or flawless names,
They danced through loss and bore no shame.
Their choices carved by Love’s own blade—
A legacy no guilt could fade.
They fell—oh yes—but not from grace;
They only paused in time and space.
And when the world declared them lost,
They rose again, despite the cost.
For Pride that’s true is not a roar,
Nor strutting steps on marble floor.
It is the calm in midnight’s eye,
A soul that whispers, Still I try.
The ones who lived with hearts laid bare,
Who chose to give, to hope, to care—
Even in doubt, they left behind
A starlit path for us to find.
Their glow remains; it never fades,
A beacon through the darkest shades.
Their essence sings across the skies—
For True Pride, Child… Never Dies.
