The thunder still rolls — but the bolt has not yet struck. The Tower leans, not crumbles. The storm waits… and so do you. ⏳ Delay, Not Deliverance There is mercy, yes — but it wears a mask. What might have shattered lingers instead: anxieties prolonged, a chaos that creeps rather than crashes…
A bolt of gold splits the veil, Not ruin — revelation. Not chaos — correction. What breaks is what imprisoned you. What burns is what kept you from becoming. A bolt of truth splits the sky, The Tower trembles — but so do lies. What falls was never real, my love. What’s…
