On Trust

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I learned that trust is risk between two waking minds.

It forms when care consents, not when force demands.

True power appears where free wills meet aligned,

Not seized by grip, but given open hands.



Authority flows like a river in its bed.

It moves by shape, not pressure from above.

Where want meets yes, where courage tempers need,

The will stands firm without the use of force.



But I have known a subtler violence too-

Not open harm, but warmth that slowly drains.

The cleverest lies feel safest when they soothe,

And teach the heart to thank its quiet loss.



This kind of care erases while it holds.

It borrows strength and names the theft as love,

Until the self bends inward, spine made small,

And absence learns to speak in tender tones.



Then clarity arrives as pain, not peace.

It cuts, but keeps the structure of the real.

For honest wounds still let the soul stand straight,

While gentle fraud dissolves the ground beneath.



I know now trust is not a shining vow,

Nor titles worn to signal moral worth.

It is a pact where truth stays whole and bare,

And no one asks another to grow less.



So let this stand: choose truth that does not bend.

Choose bonds that do not profit from your loss.

For love that lives must leave the self intact,

And trust must never ask the soul to fade.




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