In twilight realms where masks adorn like stars,
The moon casts her glow most tenderly
Upon those who dance unadorned by pretense,
Their radiance deemed too bright for mortal eyes.
Your empathy—a garden of midnight blooms,
Protected by the trellis of sacred boundaries,
Not to wither beneath harsh judgment's sun,
But to preserve your light for worthy wanderers.

Those who carved rivers of sorrow in your soul
Yet deny the waters flowing from their hands
Cannot offer reconciliation's sweet nectar.
Peace resides not in their distant approval,
But sleeps beside you, faithful as moonlight,
A companion through your darkest hours.
The distance woven between pain and present
Is gossamer silk that must not be torn.

Breaking patterns is the dance of dawn,
The first light dissolving night's heavy chains,
Your silhouette fading like morning mist
From doorways where love never flourished.
In authenticity dwells your freedom's poetry—
No longer folding your boundless spirit
Into shapes too small to hold your vastness,
Standing unveiled in your own sacred truth.

Touch not the fragile wings of survivors in flight—
Their path traced through storms of betrayal,
The space they've claimed between wound and healing
Is hallowed ground won through countless tears.
Make peace with misunderstanding's shadow,
Release the weight of constant explanation,
For your truth blooms most beautifully
When nurtured in soil that welcomes its roots.