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​The murky water, a terrible sight, Had swallowed the future and quenched every light. The home that once stood, a haven so dear, Now gone with the current, consumed by the fear. ​No walls left to shelter, no roof overhead, Just sorrowful echoes of words left unsaid. The flood took her laughter, her spirit, her peace, And left her adrift with a crushing release. ​Her children's bright faces, her partner's warm hand, Swept from her keeping, a sorrowful brand. Even the dog, with a loyal brown gaze, Had vanished completely in watery haze. ​She walked through the wreckage, a ghost in the gray, No reason to rise with the dawning of day. The sun was a stranger, the sky held no friend, She saw only darkness, a desolate end. ​"What is the purpose? Why should I remain?" A whisper of sadness, a dull, aching pain. She sank to the wet earth, prepared to give in, Let nothing endure where her life had begin. ​But then, through the clouds, a fissure broke through, A radiant beam of celestial blue. It wasn't a sunbeam, but something far more, A brilliance that landed right by her tent door. ​The air grew so gentle, a soft, golden glow, Dispelling the shadows of all that was woe. And out of the light, with a whisper of grace, An Angel appeared in that desolate place. ​No words did it speak, yet its presence was balm, Its eyes held the quiet of infinite calm. It reached out a hand, not to fix or restore, But to offer a Love she had yearned for more. ​A tangible warmth, a return of the heart, A promise of healing, a brand new fresh start. The light wasn't saving the past from the tide, But showing the strength that was sleeping inside. ​Hope was a gift, neither bought nor then sold, More precious than silver, more brilliant than gold. She lifted her face from the mud and the dust, And felt in her spirit a stirring of trust. ​The Angel then faded, the light soft and dim, But left her a song, like a soul-healing hymn. She hadn't regained what the waters had stole, But Love had returned to her desolate soul. Michael Powers "STYXX ON FIRE "
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Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 11:27 AM UTC
THE LIGHT IN THE DELUGE.......
​The murky water, a terrible sight, Had swallowed the future and quenched every light. The home that once stood, a haven so dear, Now gone with the current, consumed by the fear. ​No walls left to shelter, no roof overhead, Just sorrowful echoes of words left unsaid. The flood took her laughter, her spirit, her peace, And left her adrift with a crushing release. ​Her children's bright faces, her partner's warm hand, Swept from her keeping, a sorrowful brand. Even the dog, with a loyal brown gaze, Had vanished completely in watery haze. ​She walked through the wreckage, a ghost in the gray, No reason to rise with the dawning of day. The sun was a stranger, the sky held no friend, She saw only darkness, a desolate end. ​"What is the purpose? Why should I remain?" A whisper of sadness, a dull, aching pain. She sank to the wet earth, prepared to give in, Let nothing endure where her life had begin. ​But then, through the clouds, a fissure broke through, A radiant beam of celestial blue. It wasn't a sunbeam, but something far more, A brilliance that landed right by her tent door. ​The air grew so gentle, a soft, golden glow, Dispelling the shadows of all that was woe. And out of the light, with a whisper of grace, An Angel appeared in that desolate place. ​No words did it speak, yet its presence was balm, Its eyes held the quiet of infinite calm. It reached out a hand, not to fix or restore, But to offer a Love she had yearned for more. ​A tangible warmth, a return of the heart, A promise of healing, a brand new fresh start. The light wasn't saving the past from the tide, But showing the strength that was sleeping inside. ​Hope was a gift, neither bought nor then sold, More precious than silver, more brilliant than gold. She lifted her face from the mud and the dust, And felt in her spirit a stirring of trust. ​The Angel then faded, the light soft and dim, But left her a song, like a soul-healing hymn. She hadn't regained what the waters had stole, But Love had returned to her desolate soul. Michael Powers "STYXX ON FIRE "
michael-powers-1
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51/M/North Carolina
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 11:27 AM UTC
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