November 14, 2013
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A trickle of a mishap
A stream of misunderstanding
A rising river of hatred
A vast sea of helplessness
A raging ocean of deepest lament

This angel. She falls from that high place where she was seated;
On the finest of jewels was her intricately carved throne placed,
Where her happiness was radiating as the sun's light.
All of a sudden, she fell...
No warnings except for those in her thoughts...
To the endless bottom of that ocean.
There, the waves seek her and make her crash and tumble.
She had a will.
A will to go back to her comforting throne.
She struggled against that mighty current.
All of her precious effort she put into that struggle.

But this angel was not protected by her throne's grace any longer.
She was surrounded by night instead of the day she knew and loved.
The world around her snickered and laughed at her.
She felt alone and was losing her will.
She wishes to be with her throne.
It is her only desire.
It has been her sanctuary for anything and everything.
Her support for as long as she could remember.
Now it cannot even be in her presence.

Without her, that throne grows dull.
It's gold turned grey.
Its jewels to pebbled.
Its shine to ash.
The ocean brings death to this angel.
And her throne is fallen as well.
Nothing can fight its way out of that prison.
There is no home,
No shelter,
No altar,
No sanctuary.

It separates.
It kills.
It destroys.
It tears apart everything holy and good.
No pleas are heard or acknowledged.
The only sound, its loud roar.
The angel and throne,
They disappear.
As the ocean now calms, you hear a whisper...
A haunting cry:
Servatis a Periculum...
Servatis a Maleficum...

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