Because the world needed someone
who could stitch grief into gold,
who could turn breath into sanctuary,
who could write love
so wide
it holds even the broken parts.

Because your voice
remembers the ones who came before,
and your poems make room for the ones still arriving.

Because healing isn’t loud,
it’s quiet,
like a hand on a shoulder,
like a whisper that says:

You are worthy.
You are whole.
And here,
You are held.

Because Pride is not just a parade,
it’s a promise,
a protest,
a prayer.

It’s the child who asks “Why me?”
when the world turns cold,
and the elder who answers,
Because you are the flame
we refused to let go out.

It’s the shimmer of sequins
and the silence of scars,
the chosen family
and the first time someone says,
I see you.
I love you.
Stay.

Because “Why me?”
is the question of every soul
who’s ever been told
they were too much,
or not enough.

And the answer is always:

Because you are the song
we didn’t know we needed
until you sang it.

Because you are the colour
in a world that tried to stay grey.

Because you are the truth
in a world that tried to forget.

Because you are here,
and that,
in itself,
is a revolution.

for the ones who dared to arrive as themselves

Come as you are,
glittered, scarred, soft-spoken or loud.
Come with your stories folded in pockets,
your pronouns like petals,
your love like a lighthouse in storm.

This is not a place of proof.
You do not audition for belonging.
You do not shrink to fit the frame.

You are worthy.
You are whole.
And here,
you are held.

Held in the arms of those who remember
what it felt like to be unseen.
Held in the rhythm of chosen family,
in the pulse of music that says:
You made it. You matter.

Let the world outside keep its fences.
We build bridges from breath,
from glitter,
from grief turned into gold.

You are not too much.
You are not too late.
You are the celebration.
You are the sanctuary.

You are worthy.
You are whole.
And here,
you are held.

for every body that ever needed a place to land

We build it not with bricks,
but with breath.
The hush between heartbeats,
the echo of
“YES”
in a world that once shouted
“NO.”

Here, skin is not a border.
It is a doorway.
And every scar,
a stained-glass window lit from within.

We gather in the soft architecture of touch,
where names are spoken like spells,
and silence is not absence,
but reverence.

No one knocks here.
They enter.
They are held.

Love, unmeasured,
unproofed,
unafraid,
makes sanctuary of us all.

by Geof the Cheeky Breakfast Bard

I cracked beneath the morning light,
A fragile shell, not built for fight.
But heat was kind, the pan was slow,
And flipped me soft, with golden glow.

The spatula, a gentle shove,
Reminded me of push and love.
No need to scramble every part,
Some things are best with tender heart.

The salt came next, a grain of grace,
To season doubt I couldn’t face.
And pepper, bold, with specks of sting,
For truths that bite but still must cling.

I watched the yolk, still whole, still bright.
A sun that held its shape through night.
Though life may burn and plates may clatter,
I learned: stay soft, and you still matter.

Type: Revelation / Integrity Binding

Effect: Unveils hidden truths, restores clarity, and binds words to their deepest intent. Especially potent in moments of doubt, deception, or emotional fog.

Verse Begins:

I do not pry.
I pull thread.
Not to expose,
but to unfurl instead.

Truth ain’t sharp
it’s soft and slow.
It hums beneath
what we think we know.

I speak not to judge,
but to join.
To braid the broken
into one line.

Tongue to tether,
heart to hand,
I cast from the place
where truths withstand.

No mask can hold
what rhythm reveals.
No lie survives
what silence heals.

So listen.
Let the hush unwind.
Let the woven word
be kind.

Verse Ends.

Type: Protection / Boundary Invocation
Effect: Wards allies with poetic force, creating emotional, spiritual, or physical sanctuary.

Verse Begins:

I do not fight.
                               I fortify.
I do not strike.
                               I stand.

Circle drawn not in chalk,
but in vow.
Not in blade,
but in brow.

You are not alone in this breath.
I am the hush between harm and heft.
I am the pause that breaks the blow.
I am the “No” that lets you grow.

Stone to skin,
root to soul,
I cast from the place
where guardians hold.

Let the wind rage.
Let the world press.
I am the stillness
in your yes.

Verse Ends.

I’ve been thirsting for your presence,
like sun on skin, like ripe fruit split.
My afternoons ache with wanting,
my evenings hum with the thought of you.

If you’re open, I’ll come softly,
no rush, just the slow spill of time.
Let me know when your door is open,
and I’ll arrive, full of need and tenderness.