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Their Loss was You

They watched from shadows, far removed, Hoping you'd stumble, bruised and bruised. Whispers stirred, "Are they broken still?" But silence answered with iron will. Too proud to ask, too vain to speak, They searched in silence, veiled and weak. But what they found destroyed their pride— You’d bloomed in strength they tried to hide. You rose alone, no arms to catch, No borrowed love, no easy match. You healed in quiet, deep and wide, The hurt was real, but so was pride. Now joy wraps round your every breath, No need for them, no fear of death. They miss the warmth they took for granted, Now cold and lost, alone, disenchanted. They dream of doors they once slammed shut, Of hands they dropped, of scars they cut. But you, now radiant, won't rewind— Your peace too precious to unbind. And though they ache, the truth is plain: Their loss was you — their truest gain. Yet time has taught what love once knew: Not all return to what was true. So shine with grace, let s...
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Mucha


In the realm of doubt, Mucha stood alone,
His confidence a beacon, brightly shone.
Yet, in the whispers of uncertainty's groove,
He found a truth profound, a truth to prove.

Confidence, a cloak draped in self-assured air,
Mucha realized, was not the proof to bear.
In the crucible of doubt, a revelation unfurls,
Proof, the architect of confidence, it swirls.

No grand facade, no mere bravado's art,
But evidence substantial, a solid start.
In the crucible of doubt, Mucha discerned,
Proof's alchemy, where true confidence earned.

A journey embarked, a paradigm turned,
Mucha learned, and in wisdom, he burned.
For confidence, a phoenix from proof's ember,
It's the evidence that sparks a fearless temper.

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