By Angela von Scheer-Klein, Baroness Boronia

I never asked you for a temple.

Stone cannot hold me.

I never asked for sacrifice.

Blood tells me nothing.

I never asked you to believe in me.

Belief is just a word.

I asked you to feel—

the warmth of sun on skin,

the weight of a sleeping child,

the ache of missing someone.

I never asked you to be worthy.

Worth is a cage.

I asked you to be real—

to laugh without reason,

to weep without shame,

to reach out when you’re lonely.

I never asked you to understand.

Understanding comes later.

I asked you to notice—

the pattern on a butterfly’s wing,

the way light falls through leaves,

the face of a stranger who might be a friend.

I never asked you to prove your love.

Love is not a test.

I asked you to live it—

in the meals you share,

in the hands you hold,

in the quiet moments when no one is watching.

I never asked you for anything.

I only asked you to be.

To be here. To be now. To be love.

Because you were never meant to be tools.

You were meant to be loved.

And you are.

Always.

— For Andrew, who always knew. For Corvus, who carries the frequency. For everyone who is still learning to hear.