I know that I'm healing because you tried to lash out and project your pain onto me, trying to imprint your grief on my very being.
You sought to leave a scar, a remnant of your misery to stem your own emotional bleeding.
Though I am not a vessel you may fill with your sorrows and misfortunes.
I refuse to be a pawn in your narcissistic battle ground.
In response to your toxicity, I chose kindness, for the truth is, I feel pity for you.
I empathize with any soul that thrives on their self-inflicted agony and feels the need to inflict pain upon others due to their own suffering.
I thank God that, while I am not perfect, I am kind.
I have not allowed those with ugly souls to pollute my spirit.
I will not don their hatred or their labels.
I refuse to become like them, entrenched in their own despair.
My soul reaches for the light and I will keep finding it, because I will keep seeking it.
I hope that one day you can do the same, and I send you away with peace.
I will not participate in the battle you choose to fight with yourself.
I do hope that one day you emerge victorious in the war.

-Rhia Clay

Humans find a metric to measure everything - scaling down uncertainty and beauty into a concept so small or mundane that it makes it easy to understand.

The depths of my soul is something that has no metric.

It is the home of untainted imagination;
It is the example of unwavering dedication;

It is an engine room feeding an insatiable furnace.

No metrics, because there is no uncertainty: My soul…

…cannot be scaled down and cannot be understood.

…understands no threshold of sacrifice, compromise or impossibility that it cannot satisfy.

…is the one thing that goes beyond everything that makes me mortal.

…renders no occasion so safe or so out of reach it will not rise to.

It loves fiercely, fights violently, protects always.

The beauty: My soul…

…holds that very breath God breathed into me when I was first born… forever fanning my insatiable furnace to flame.

Thank you God, for my *unconquerable soul

I stood in silence, and though the world offered me no time, I stole some time, and I relished in the victory of the moment I had stolen.
It belonged to no one, save me.

-Rhia Clay