Quiet Power

They call them soft, as if to say

Their strength had simply fell away,

But like the waters, deep and wide,

Their power flows, un-forced by pride.

They bend and curve where others break,

In hardships, paths only they can make.

With quiet grace, they carve the stone,

Leaving the proof of the strength they own.

They do not shout, nor seek to harm,

Their presence holds but a gentle charm.

Respect is earned, not by command,

But by the grace from where they stand.

So call them soft, but you will see,

A strength that roars, only by choice let free.

They rise as waves when tides demand,

To carve the world with steady hand.

Yet soft they care, calm peace held near,

for in their presence, there’s no place for fear.

With kindness sharp as the rivers’ flow,

They hold what the weak will never know.

With no need for force, or cruel demand,

They’re not soft, no, they’re a real man.

TB💞

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