ｄ．ｓ．ｗｅａｖｅ

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗

𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛—

𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜,

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚊𝚗𝚍

𝟹𝟷/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚢

𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎,

𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜,

𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎

𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙸 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏—

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢

𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝.

🕷️

𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍.

𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

30/365

The Captivated Captor

I watch as you lay—

not bound by chains,

but by something I cannot name.

Your silence fills the room,

a rhythm I can’t ignore,

and I find myself

waiting for you to speak

in the quiet moments

where I’m no longer certain

who holds the key.

🕸️

Who really holds the key…

𝟸𝟿/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜—

𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢,

𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎,

𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐—𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘

𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏

𝟸𝟾/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙰𝚗 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔,

𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕,

𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐,

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝

𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖.

𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗—

𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝟸𝟽/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎,

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕,

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢,

𝟸𝟺/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝚃𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛,

𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢—

𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊𝚜—

𝟸𝟹/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎—

𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎.

🕷️

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝—𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝟸𝟸/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙼𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜

𝚂𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚐𝚘

𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗.

𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍

𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎,

𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚜—

𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚗𝚘

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜.

🕷️

𝟸𝟷/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗

𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍,

𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔—

𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚜,

𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎.

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛,

𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎—

𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖.

𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎,

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗—

𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑.

🕷️

“𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗?” – 𝙰𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚘

𝟷𝟿/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚢

𝙳𝚘 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎,

𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗?

𝙽𝚘, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕—𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎,

𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎

𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝,

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚖,

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎,

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗.

𝙸𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕,

𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝?

𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢

𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜,

𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘

𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙.

🕷️

𝟷𝟾/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗,

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎

𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎

𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜.

🕸️

𝟷𝟼/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜

𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜—

𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎.

🕸️

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.

𝟷𝟹/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗’𝚜 𝙿𝚞𝚕𝚕

𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜—

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍,

𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚠𝚗,

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜,

𝚏𝚘𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙸 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠,

𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎,

𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛—

𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚋 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝,

𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚜.

𝙰𝚜 𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝,

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗—

𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍,

𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎—

𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜,

𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎.

🕸️

“𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎.” — 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜.

𝟷𝟸/𝟹𝟼𝟻

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔

𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎

𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢—

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏

𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔,

𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚢𝚕𝚎,

𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝,

𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍

𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢—

𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍

𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎.

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To Those Who Stand in the Flame

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜

𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜—

𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜,

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎

𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢,

𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗—

𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜,

𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

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