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matilde 2d
Man was not born perfect. Neither divine, nor beastly. But shaped from the mud of contradiction: a being who, at the same time, reaches for the light and falls into shadow.
Among mortals, there exists no creature entirely good, nor entirely corrupt: each walks a ridge, where every step may lean toward evil or good, without ever fully dwelling in either.

According to the bards of the South, it was Prometheus who molded the first human heart using tears stolen from Eléos, a minor and forgotten goddess, born from the Compassion that Nyx, the primordial Night, wept while watching the wars among her children.
Prometheus ignited that tear with the fire of thought, but he left man with a flaw: the heart could beat in tune with another’s pain, but it could also reject it, shut itself off, dry up.

When man wounds man, when he betrays, strikes, tramples—what awakens is the most ancient part of him: not the one shaped by Eléos, but the one carved by Nemesis, the goddess of retribution, twin sister of balance.

And yet, when the guilty fall, and the unjust suffer, the heart of the just one hesitates.
Thought whispers: “He deserved it.”

But this voice does not come from Eléos.
It comes from the blade, the one Nemesis sharpened with the envy of the living and the resentment of the dead.
A blade that cannot distinguish between the righteous and the vengeful, because whoever wields it, even briefly, loses sight of the heart.

Eléos, on the other hand, does not speak loudly. She whispers.
She reminds the heart of what the mind has forgotten: “He, too, was a child. He, too, was afraid. He, too, sought love.”

And then empathy appears—not as pity, but as a sacred discipline.
It is not an emotion. It is not weakness.
It is the ability to face the pain of the one who hurt you, and say: “I do not wish for him what he wished for me.”

And then you see.
You see the guilty one’s mother watching over his bed.
You see the father remembering a boy who once ran, now motionless.
You see friends who do not understand.
You see yourself, reflected in the face you once hated, and you realize the harm he caused was born from the same hunger for love that burns in you.

Eléos sits beside you, in silence.
She imposes nothing.
But if you listen, she teaches true compassion: the kind that knows how to weigh pain, even when it belongs to the enemy.

People invoke karma. They say: “It’s justice.” But it is not justice they seek. It is revenge.
And revenge is a knife held with a cold hand, but one that slowly burns the palm.

There is no compassion in those who cry for a dog but laugh at the outcast classmate.
There is no empathy in those who grieve for a lonely elder but despise a peer who cannot speak.

Empathy is a fire that only consumes pride.
It is the art of seeing the other not as a stranger, but as a missed version of oneself.

And forgiveness, then, is not forgetting—it is transformation.
It is saying: “You are not innocent, but you are human. And I choose to see you with the eyes I wish were used to see me.”

The myths say Eléos lives in the woods at the edge of Tartarus, where the spirits of the repentant wander in search of peace.
She does not punish them. She listens.
And when a soul learns to weep for what it has done, Eléos gives it a second skin: made of silence, memory, and light.

And you—if you wish to know her—do not call her.
Sit beside the pain you once hated, and listen to it.
Only then will she come.
And she will call you:
Daughter of Compassion.
Keeper of Forgiveness.
thought about this at 11 pm while laying in bed listening to Radiohead ****
Sarah 6d
‘Freeze’ brought us to a stop
under a warm spotlight.
I turned to face my partner
and saw these hazel eyes.

Eyes that had felt distant,
dodging my very presence.
Uncertain, I looked at them -
prepared for rejection.

But they wrinkled at the corners
to match an unexpected smile.
Paired with a long sigh -
a ‘phew’ that filled the distance.
Melting away the tension
and inviting my heart to soften.

I found myself engulfed
in these hazel eyes.
Shielded by sharp lashes
as if to protect for a while.
A guard let down
allowed mine to drop into ease.
A wide smile emerged
and claimed my face.

It was pure magic,
to finally feel seen.
But magic is short-lived -
it was soon time to say goodbye.
I crinkled my eyelids,
pushing this moment to a hidden room.
A room only I could visit
when loneliness strikes.
Gentle kind soul,
I see the tears you weep,
as you sit in quiet vigil
while the world is asleep.

The world's weight has settled
in your bones tonight,
leaving you wishing for peace,
instead of a fight.

Kindness flows from you
like steady breaths, so deep;
While others dream and slumber,
your selfless mind still seeks.

I sometimes watch
as your mind creates storms,
and your eyes rain with mercy,
as you care for all.

Your heart overflows
with hopes and dreams,
while time, like a fish,
swims quickly downstream.

Silhouetted by moonlight
spilling through the window pane,
its presence is a thankful kiss
that softly speaks your name.

©️Lizzie Bevis
hyun May 26
maybe fire is a synonym
of compassion, and we
interpreted it differently.

and so when i tell you
that my heart burns passionately,
it isn't to say that you'll
get burned—

it is to let you know that, sometimes,
pain is a precursor to happiness,
and that nothing comes
without a cost.
Viktoriia May 20
you know you're touch starved
when you start having dreams
of hugging someone
and of being hugged.

i have one at least once a week.
Joshua Phelps May 15
where is all
the compassion?

the empathy?

oh, humanity—

what a disaster.
left me
dumbstruck.

the world’s
spiraling faster
and faster

into a freefall
of selfishness
and carelessness.

we’re supposed
to move forward—
so why’s everyone
racing back
in time?

do you like
what you’ve become?

do you even
remember
what it’s like
to feel
something?

it’s dumb luck
expecting people
to wake up

when they’re
already dead
inside.

i can’t believe it—
they’re so
hollow.

but i won’t be
the one to follow,
won’t fall
in line.

all it takes
is a little compassion.

a little
understanding.

so next time
you open your mouth—

be kind.
inspired by neck deep’s “dumbstruck dumbf**k.”

a punk-poetic piece on how selfishness, emotional burnout, and apathy are rotting us from the inside out.

mental health awareness starts with compassion—not compliance.
Un nuovo Papa
Una nuova speranza
Addio a Papa Francesco
Chi ha fatto un lavoro meraviglioso come Alto Clero
Come sappiamo, l'età non crede alle dinastie
Veniamo, andiamo e ce ne andiamo come un bacio
Ogni tanto c'è bisogno di sangue nuovo
E naturalmente è naturale; Non è un crimine
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
Abbiamo una nuova speranza
Abbiamo un nuovo Papa
Un nuovo leader per la Chiesa cattolica
L'indagine è conclusa, le elezioni sono concluse, la controversia è finita
Da diversi decenni ormai nessun uomo o nessuna donna è eterno
Gli ultimi Papi sono stati gentili, umili, sinceri e universali
Spero che questo pontefice sia migliore del precedente
(Non è uno scherzo) Chi siede in Cielo
Per archiviare e firmare i tuoi documenti
Dove innumerevoli angeli cantano sotto le tende divine
Il mondo oggi è precipitato in una situazione disastrosa e maligna:
Menzogne, crimini, corruzione, espulsioni, discriminazione e impunità
Cavolo, è un eufemismo
Tuttavia, il mondo intero anela a:
La pace, la pace e la pace
Vogliamo che tutti gli incubi finiscano:
Ingiustizia, guerre, ipocrisia, razzismo, intolleranza e povertà
Habemus novum spem
Habemus novum papam
Abbiamo una nuova speranza
Abbiamo un nuovo Papa
Che Dio benedica il nuovo Pontefice, la natura e l'umanità!

Copyright © 8 maggio 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tutti i diritti riservati.
Hébert Logerie è autore di diverse raccolte di poesie.
How the hand you extend is marked with scars
How familiar you are with rejection
How beautiful are those discolored stars
How none have been touched by hate's infection

How many are tears that drip on your chest
How much heat they hold, all stinging and strong
How much love they hold, how much do they bless
How strange that they're for the one who did wrong

How much do I ache when I meet your gaze
How my heart feels like it's all out of joint
How much does it break as you gently say,
"How could all you've done ever be the point?"

I burst my seams trying to hold your gift
A miracle hug across a great rift
Grace and reconciliation are so much more radical than we can conceive.
Cadmus May 8
You…

with your eyes fixed on fire,
on skies that never blink.
You’ve memorized verses,
but forgotten how to think.

You search the wind for commands,
while hearts beat beside you,
unheard.
You shout the name of God
but miss Him in a stranger’s word.

Look down, brother.
No-“ - look around.
See the dust,
the children,
the cracks in the ground.
That’s where truth spills,
quiet as rain.
That’s where faith lives
not in thunder,
but in pain.

There’s no ladder to climb,
no sky to ascend.
The divine is not distant
He’s the hand of a friend.

So loosen your grip.
Unfold your fists.
The kingdom you seek
already exists.
This piece is a gentle plea to those who seek the divine only in the skies, forgetting that the sacred often lives in the eyes, hands, and hearts of the people around us. True spirituality is not escape, it is presence.
Sudzedrebel Apr 25
Compassion,
The path of all things.
To care about nothing
Would be to learn just the same.

Curiosity,
The drive of all things.
To have it about nothing
Would be to receive just the same.

And thus, we have our twins!
Two constants with reciprocal natures
In continuous flux, each a prerequisite of the other.

To coddle one too much
Means the deprivation of the other.
To neglect either
Means the neglect of each other.
That is,
To neglect either is to reject both.
To foster chaos is by either's rejection,
In that both shall neglect each other.

The incompassionate mind is not curious.
The uncurious mind is not compassionate.

As in, by our neural structures,
The ways we decide to go
Are like the paths which grow.
For you leave more than only footprints
Where no man has ever walked before.
Yet, that you leave nothing,
You constantly walk those roads.
Yet, that it is immaterial,
You still do so in the physical.
Yet, that it is material,
You still do so in the metaphysical.

For it's inbetween being betwixt,
For it's seperate & imperceptible.
For it's singular, yet collective.
For it's collective, yet individual.
For it's infinitesimal, yet infinite.
For it's eternal, yet finite in existence.

That is, existence like ice
Slowly melting into water.
That it remains the same,
But changes & fluctuates
Relative to any environment.
As like with the constraints of time,
Actions outward of the body.
Action of the outward body.
In relation to it,
Matter unchanged
But translated via a different state.

Celebrate.
To live is for life,
But we all die sometime!
Yet, is this change?
Transmutation by that of another order?

Something perennial, yet still coming into being.
Something endless, yet but only just beginning.
Something futuristic, yet which is already happening.
Maybe someone once called them Castor & Pollux? Lol
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