In the grand tapestry of human interaction, respect is the silken thread that binds together the fragile fabric of our shared existence. It is the bedrock upon which the majestic edifice of healthy relationships, harmonious communities, and a just society stands. To recognize the inherent worth of every soul and to treat them with the tender consideration and courtesy they deserve is to participate in the divine symphony of respect.

Respect transcends mere politeness; it is the celestial dance of effective communication and profound mutual understanding. At its very essence, respect is an acknowledgment of the divine dignity and sacred rights of others. It is the act of listening with the heart, appreciating the myriad perspectives that color the human experience, and embracing empathy with open arms. When we cloak others in the warm embrace of respect, we validate their emotions, thoughts, and experiences, weaving a tapestry of trust that opens the door to meaningful and constructive dialogue.

In personal relationships, workplaces, and social gatherings, respect is the gentle whisper that makes every person feel cherished and heard. It is the echo of self-respect, the steadfast guardian of one's integrity and principles, the nurturer of mental, emotional, and physical well-being. Self-respect is the vigilant sentry that establishes healthy boundaries and demands that others honor them with the same reverence.

On the grand stage of society, respect is the cornerstone of social cohesion and peace. It is the bridge that spans the chasms of cultural, racial, and socioeconomic divides, fostering a landscape of tolerance and acceptance. In its absence, the seeds of misunderstanding, conflict, and violence take root. Yet, in a respectful society, differences are celebrated, and inclusivity flourishes.

Respect is not merely a concept; it is the lifeblood of human coexistence, enhancing relationships, supporting personal integrity, and promoting societal harmony. By weaving respect into the fabric of our daily lives, we contribute to the creation of a compassionate and understanding world, a world where the luminous glow of respect illuminates every corner of human existence.

Purpose prose I suppose Need to write What’s in sight

Writing the second: Eva and Kathy try writing without seeing each other’s parts again Eva writes part 1 and 3, Kathy writes part 2 and 4

No prompt <3

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I had a bracelet with two beads one fell in the sea, it was a lake actually, the others in London, somewhere in the city, they're probably being kicked about, it's probably stuck in between the ridges on the sole of a shoe. I left an earring in berlin, it broke off while swimming, and I didn't know, but I knew, I told myself I'd be ok with losing them, because they matched my swimsuit so well

//

And so I said to death, “Why be it that you pull me from the throes and the busies of the world, from the bark of the dog and little infants tear,why steel away conscience from the smiles of man and drown in sorrows those they hold dear, do you not feel the flame lick our feet as we step through hell above, or does thou only weep in the joy of a soul, a dove.”

//

Now one of the earrings is at the bottom of a lake, the lake I swam in for hours with my cousins, splashing water and playing catch, bad English and bad German, miss communication and missed opportunities and missed connections, and she's crushing on a boy at the beach, trying her hardest to impress him, but we're giggling together and she whispers to her sister and we're kicking our feet on the paddleboard and she'll say something outrageous and we'll push her off and she'll drag us under and we're laughing so hard we'll forget, the earrings, the boy, the limited time, the awkwardness, the missed opportunities, the ocean between us. Because it was never about the boy or the earrings, was it?

//

And so death said to me, “please, sweet child o’ mine, I do not do the deed, just the messanger for the divine. When your tale is laid to rest, I come and sweep by. O to store you in the libraries of the best, of Charon, Eros, and the mind.”

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Kathy:

THIS WAS SO FUN I literally haven’t written this much in 8 weeks, minus that one story I’m supposed to be writing :3 I had NO IDEA Eva would write so much 😭 I would’ve done more babes 💜💜💜

Eva- HELP I WROTE SM (also im on keyboard so imagine the crying emoji) i like the duality of these, even tho theyre completely different i feel like theres smthn abt them that matches ANYWASY MINE IS KINDA BAD BUT THIS WAS FUN SO IDRC LOVE YA KATH<3

Hey! Before you read this experimental piece of poetry, just know that it gets a bit gruesome.

"I'm scared"

Oh your accsimus is admirably and skillfully placed in our mirthfully light conversation so sagely laced with the placid humility unabashedly displayed in that scintillating twinkle in your eye with which I Am reminded of fluffy white seals born newly, and of their puffy soft breaths that make their beetle nose dewy, their obsidian lamps that stay riveted, unfathomably lured by the glaring white vastness of the cruel cold world to which they'll become inured. So burgeon, My sweet seal, and let yourself emerge on the umpteen pleasures of life so succulent and dear they render effete any tenuous attempts at humble fear.

"She's bleeding, please help her. Her bone is sticking out of her elbow, please, doctor. She's my baby sister, I can't bear her cries."

Oh the sweet sounds of living! Called horrifying by some. Why how spoilt we are to whinge for silence and cry when all noise is gone! Just look at that liquid woe leaving a faltering pristine path on your face. All energy is spent on basking in borrowed agony when you make empathy commonplace! It's true. Just look at the sky, my seal, all engulfing and blue, And the myriad of campfires being started in it, the music! Milk the world for its beauty while you're in it and be in your thoughts, maieutic. Hate the pernicious: Despondent grief, polite guilt and palaverous loneliness; Turn your twinkling eyes to see insouciant happiness in puppies and kittens and cute quirky baby mittens, for they will bestow you with transcendent ambitions.

Then two Timberland boots walked agilely over charred rubble often sprinkled with organs, blood and bones, evading any foreseeable bombs and leaving a crying girl to tourniquet a wailing baby's protruding broken bone. The boots were wiped down with a cotton scented wet towel, thereupon tossed onto a dirty boy, recently alive. The boots were fluttered away by a helicopter and in brief moments sank into soft expensive rugs where they sat comfortably for a few minutes before being polished and left to enjoy their new brilliance alone. In a clean dark corner. Below tall gothic ceilings.

You got me twisted between love and hate,
What lesson lies in this cruel twist of fate?
Is it to let go, release the threads of my heart?
Yet I’ve let go of so much, seen dreams depart.
It feels unjust to lose what my soul does crave,
When I know, with you, life’s so vibrant, so brave.

I longed for you, my heart’s deepest desire,
Now, here I am, writing silly poems, a scribe on fire.
My pages are filled with echoes of you,
Each word a shadow of the love we knew.
I wished for you, prayed to the stars above,
So why, oh why, has fate stolen my love?

Your words once chose me, then left me in despair,
I saw your eyes that day, filled with sorrow, laid bare.
Sadness and shame, pain you couldn’t disguise,
Reflected in your gaze, a mirror of our demise.
What path do you tread now, in your silent plight?
It seems you suffer, clinging to shadows of the night.

You hold on to what should be cast away,
Yet here I am, unable to find my way.
I preach of letting go, but I’m the one who clings,
To the whispers of love, to the song our past sings.
Confusion grips me, our story feels unfinished,
I don’t want it to end, my love undiminished.

Do you, too, feel this chapter is not yet complete?
Do you long for the days when our hearts would meet?
Twisted between love and hate, I stand,
Lost in the labyrinth, seeking your hand.
In this world, upside down, my heart does drown,
In anguish, longing, sadness profound.

Sizzling pans and bubbling pots, A symphony of flavors, aromas waft. Crisp vegetables, tender meats, Herbs and spices, nature's treats.

Golden crusts on fresh-baked bread, Steaming soups to chase the dread. Sweet desserts, a perfect end, Comfort found in what we've penned.

From farm to table, love infused, In every dish, a story used. Nourishment for body, soul, Food connects us, makes us whole.

Beneath the canopy of the sapphire heavens, where twilight’s velvet fingers entwine with the horizon’s golden embrace, there lies a realm resplendent in nature’s most opulent hues. Here, the perfumed zephyrs whisper secrets of yore, their breath a tantalizing blend of jasmine and lilac, an elixir to the weary soul.

The argent moon, a celestial gem ensconced in the inky abyss, casts its argent gaze upon the world, bathing the emerald meadows in a lustrous, ethereal glow. Each blade of grass, kissed by the nocturnal dew, glistens like a myriad of diamonds scattered by the hand of a benevolent deity. The nightingale, cloaked in shadow, serenades the slumbering earth with a melody so poignant, it could stir the very stars to weep in rapture.

Beneath the glass, my face a-bloom; With poppies red, and roses hue; Vining from chrysanthemums asunder; Where I lordly grasped the flaming sun, Where Blooming incarnatum lie, Spirits dare not tread where spirits be; Blood is never shed when tonic sees to That this will not be so Ere I lie beneath the glass; Safe like the butterfly withheld, Far and Unreachable as the sun, Somewhere near the bottle’s end

Feel the dampness of the rain Cozy rain How it placates the spirits and assuages all pain

Hear it drizzle drizzle drizzle in the penetrating wind Underneath the weeping trees As the sleeping willow bleeds Onto soft and supple skin

Watch it fall, fall, fall down the terracotta wall Hear the melancholy ballad as the angels start to bawl

Smell the petrichor aroma that will always remain From the rain, from the rain From the rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain Hear the whispering and the whistling of the rain

Her bright red coat covered her long beautiful body. It swayed equally with the slow and steady wind. Confidence radiating smoothly off her like the beams of color. Into the yellow cab she went leaving behind a trace of velvet flowers.

S. L. Cline