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They watched me go,
never knowing
I’d return with silence
sharper than any reply.

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She doesn’t chase, explain, or settle.
Her grace speaks before she does.
High standards aren’t for show,
they’re the quiet filter that keeps her life
aligned with peace, quality, and self-worth.
The rest? It never makes it past the door.

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Title : "Integrity Isn’t Loud - Conversation with Saturn"

"What I lost in position, I gained in purpose.
What I faced in solitude, I turned into strength.
These tests didn’t punish me. They revealed me."

[FULL PIECE IN THE CAPTION]

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Not Every Touch Is Worth the Price

In midnight scrolls and fleeting texts,
Where love is ranked and hearts come next,
We’ve made the sacred feel so small,
As if the soul means nothing at all.

They say, “It’s just a phase, just fun,”
But fragments scatter with each one.
Each body you touch, each soul you invade,
Is more than just pleasure, it’s energy laid

You think it’s over when the moment ends,
But energy lingers, and karma extends.
You’re mixing wounds, you're swapping fears,
And one day it’ll cost you, in love or tears.

The soul keeps a ledger the eyes cannot see,
And one day you’ll wonder, “Why can't love be?”
You carry pieces, thread by thread,
Of everyone you’ve ever let into your bed.

This isn’t shame, it’s sacred truth,
Your body’s not a playground for wasted youth
So pause before you give your light
To hands that only crave the night.

Your worth’s not in numbers, not in the chase
It’s in knowing your power, your heart, and your pace.
You are divine, don’t cheapen the gift.
Set your standards, let spirits lift.

Wait for the one who sees your flame,
Who loves your depth, not just your name
Choose wisely, remember this rule,
A sacred heart doesn’t make itself a tool.

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Protect your prime - Spend it on what grows you, not what drains you.

Grow roots before you Bloom - Until you know yourself, your shadows, your strengths, the world will keep shaking you. Self-awareness isn’t optional, it’s protection.

Protect your becoming, your energy - Not everyone comes with good intentions. Some will smile as they sabotage, study you just to shake you. You don’t owe anyone access to the parts of you still under construction.

Build a life that love will be proud to walk into. Let purpose shape your confidence. No one’s coming to save you and that’s where your power begins.

Health isn’t a luxury, it’s the foundation. Without it, nothing else stands - Care for it, honor it.

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They said, A woman waits to be claimed,
But she had never played that game.
She honored storms she walked alone,
And made her skin her sacred throne.

Her body—temple. Heart—divine.
Her sacred self, by her design.
No man to sign her worth in gold,
No rituals bought, no karma sold.

They called her late, they called her lone
But she had built a world on her own.
She loved with depth, not with a cage,
Her soul unmarked by paper page.

They named it “virtue,” “purity”
She called it sovereignty.
Too sacred to offer casually,
Too powerful to give away unconsciously.

She didn’t stay alone out of fear.
She stayed true out of power.
No karma bartered, none entwined,
Her path was hers—untouched, aligned.

So no, she didn’t marry fate.
She didn’t knock on custom’s gate.
She stayed, she stood, she soared, she knew:
The truest vows are made to you.

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🌿Things That Vanish Without Noise🌿

Some things arrive like a season not spoken of,
early, sudden, without asking to be named.
They settle in the corners of thought,
quiet as dust, certain as dawn.

Not all warmth is meant for keeping,
some flames burn only to remember they once lit.
Even soft light can cast long shadows,
when it stays too long in the wrong place.

There are questions that grow without roots,
they bloom, they fade, and no one remembers planting them.
Some songs are only meant to be hummed once,
and yet their echo finds the walls for years.

There’s a kind of silence that teaches
more than every word that came before it.
It holds what was never said
and never needed saying.

Still, somewhere beneath the forgetting, something remembers.
But not to return, only to grow differently.

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WHERE THE TIDES BOWED

Once, there was one who painted skies with stars, not theirs to give.
The night listened, but before the light could set, they disappeared leaving behind
a tale half-told, a stage still echoing,

She spoke the lines she never chose, walked past mirrors that never froze.
Each face she saw felt cold, unknown, and laughter echoed, but not her own.

A quiet storm stirred in her sleep’s soft hush
but she learned the language of waves and taught the sea to hush.

In time, she danced with dusk, wrapped stillness around her like velvet,
and found fullness in the space no one else could reach.

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The Saturday Swan

I saw a swan on Saturday, alone beneath a sky so grey.
She danced across the silver lake, each ripple trailing soft heartache.

The breeze had stitched her wings with thread, of dreams once bright, now softly shed.
But still she spun a silent show, while no one guessed the ache below.

The lillies bloomed in quiet grace, but none could read her mirrored face.
They saw her glide, not how she grieved, nor how the morning light deceived.

The willow hummed a lullaby, the kind that doesn’t ask you why.
And she, too proud to make a sound, just smiled while slowly sinking down.

Her feathers white, her posture still, the world admired her quiet will.
But I, who watched with knowing eyes, could feel the storm she hid in skies.

She bowed before the setting sun, as if to say, “It’s done. I’m done.”
Yet left no trace, no trailing note, just twilight brushing at her throat.

So if you saw her soft and serene you’d say, “What peace! What grace between.”
But I, alone, could see her pain, the weight she wore like satin rain

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