Lightning enveloped the tower once more, and simultaneously, the doctor's new Iris gained her first breath. She shakily moaned as she reached up and grabbed the doctor's shirt with her stiffened fingers, scratching his chest in the process.

This experiment had worked much faster than the last, it seemed. Iris was much stronger than Victor was at this p…

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Deep in the night, she wakes once again.
Not a tick of the clock, no sound at all.
The darkness is quiet, no whispers around
Justified now in calm, a peace now is found.

A download installed, rewired my drive.
Rearranged the information; clarity now abounds.
It surges deep inside me, insanely profound.
Light lives and breathes. Energy swells and expand…

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A blinding flash of lightning filled the room of the tower, lighting up every inch of the existing space. The body the doctor reconstructed jolted and twitched.

As fast as the lightning left the room, so did the movement of the body.

The doctor stared hard at the body, willing it to rise with his mind.

"Did it work? Did it fail?" he thought to himsel…

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The doctor took care in his mission. This would be his greatest work yet. He gathered his coat, gloves, and supplies and hurried out to his horses to prepare them for the wagon's trip.

He traveled over rocky dirt and stone roads through the night until he reached the place where he had previously spotted the mounds of freshly dug graves. The light from…

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There is a profound power in your words, your voice, and your story.

How others perceive you is not yours to understand or control. The people who are meant to be touched by your words will find you. The ones who need your message will hear it.

The ones who recognize themselves within your story will stay.

Not everyone will.

Some people will feel inspired. Some will feel seen. Others may feel uncomfortable, triggered, or challenged.

When that happens, they are presented with a choice: to look within and ask themselves why, to take accountability for what they discover, or to turn away entirely.

That choice belongs to them.

The people who cannot face what your words awaken in them may leave. The people who take issue with your truth may fall away.

Let them.

Do not allow someone else's opinion to silence your voice or discourage you from your path.

Your story belongs to you.

No one else has lived your exact experiences. No one else has seen life through your eyes. Others may share similar themes, lessons, or struggles, but your perspective is uniquely your own.

The way you tell your story can never be duplicated because it is woven from your memories, your scars, your triumphs, and your heart.

Do not let anyone dictate your creations.

Those belong to you.

Whether your words arrive in a sudden rush or unfold slowly over time, they matter. Sometimes a story pours out all at once, demanding to be heard. Other times it asks you to sit with it, breathe with it, and carefully shape it into something meaningful.

Make it poetry.

Make it prose.

Make it an essay, a journal entry, a song, or an article.

The form is not what matters.

What matters is that you allow it to exist.

There is freedom in creation. There is healing in expression. There is something deeply transformative about taking what lives inside of you and giving it a voice.

And if your story helps even one person feel less alone, less broken, less afraid, then every word was worth writing.

Because sometimes a single story can become a light for someone who has been searching for their way through the dark.

And you never know whose path your words might illuminate.

If this piece resonated with you, I hope it reminds you that your voice matters.

Your story does not need permission to exist. 

The people who need your words will find them.

Thank you for reading as always.

Wishing you all Peace, love, and Light.

@LustralLibelle

Once there was a tower. A huge, dark tower that was filled with shadows. It appeared ominous, ancient, almost otherworldly. It sat upon a mountainside in the wild lands of a remote wilderness. A cold, harsh climate, unforgiving and not easily accessible.

The walls spoke of mysteries of the past. If only they could talk. They would speak of centuries before, when past families dwelled within, sharing so much love that some remained within the deep cracks that lined the stones that made the structure.

The bleak gray stones also held stories of hurt, pain, and desolate despair. Grief riddled the halls as family members from generations before passed on, leaving some solitary to manage the castle and their feelings alone.

Secrets of those who came before and what they learned echoed in the empty corridors lined with dust, cobwebs, and longing.

Now the tower of the castle welcomed a new presence.

A doctor who drove himself insane. He saw one too many patients and absorbed all of their pain as his own, not knowing how to process and navigate ways to release how it affected him. For when he realized the implications of their effects, it was much too late.

He walked the lonely halls, his footsteps echoing his resolve. As he approached the tower, he leaned in and recognized something odd, yet familiar. A sense of knowing his work would thrive and develop in this tall, cold tower. New meaning would develop here. New purpose, and a new mission could now breathe life.

Work was his obsession. His strong hands never stopped, for if they became idle too long, his mind would go to uncomfortable places he never wished to dream of.

Yes, this space was perfect. It fit his moodiness, his despair. His work would do well here.

It wasn't long before he began his first project of the many he had planned. He sat under the moonlight shining through the broken windows of the tower that echoed the broken solitude of his soul, writing and sketching feverishly, his calloused hands composing the plans of his latest brainchild.

"A masterpiece," he thought to himself.

A maddening sense of pleasure mixed with pain washed over his body as he saw his vision draw closer to completion. He was so obsessed with his work to the point that if he could not pursue it, it would continually eat at his soul, causing him to spiral into a deep oblivion of twisted depression mixed with intense darkness.

The voices that spoke to him from the voids of his mind propelled him to begin this next lamented, tragically beautiful, yet warped design of his mind.

To Be Continued...

Thank you for reading!💕

Embrace Spooky Season! 🎃👻🍁🍂It’s my fave! When you’ve lived through the dark, you relate to it more.✨️

Wishing you all Peace ✌️, Love 🫶, and Light. ✨️

The body in itself is art. 

Involving the soul makes it a masterpiece. 

I have come to believe that intimacy is one of the most misunderstood forms of human connection.

Many people think it begins with attraction. Others think it is measured by chemistry. But those things are only the doorway.

Real intimacy begins when two people allow themselves to be seen.

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The ocean never warned you she was dangerous
You simply mistook her beauty for mercy
Edgy, unique, mysterious
And you believe you're worthy

You tempted her spirit
Made her believe you were equals
Appeared truthful, spoke all the right words
It seemed as though you were peaceful

Mistook her kindness for weakness
Not realizing her deepness
Wanted to ste…

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It is never too late. I know we've all heard it before.

But it's true.

It is never too late to do the things that light up your soul. It's never too late to do the things that make your heart feel full. It's never too late to change your mind. It's never too late.

Several months ago, I realized I wasn't happy anymore. I decided I wanted to pursue the things I love. I decided that it was okay to do so. I am the only one in charge of my own life. No one else can decide what I should or should not do, and no one else knows what truly makes me happy except me.

I simply want to write. I want to be able to wake up and, instead of getting ready to work for someone else's business, work for myself. I want to sit outside with a cup of coffee and write about what's on my mind. I want to help people, and this is how I want to begin. I have a whole vision for how I want to use writing as a way to help others.

I want my writing to allow me to travel. I want to write a book, and then another one. I want to wake up on a beach and write on a balcony overlooking the sunrise, with a gentle breeze flowing through my hair. I want the sun to kiss my face as it warmly whispers, You've got this. Keep going.

I want to spend an afternoon trying a new cuisine from a faraway place. I want to roam the streets of an ancient city for inspiration, then settle into a cozy little café and write about whatever my heart has to say.

I want to spend my evenings beneath a misty, moonlit, star-filled sky beside the crackle of a warm fire and see what my soul has to say to the night. I want to find inspiration in the little, most simple things that life encompasses. 

The beauty of it all is that I still can.

Any of us can decide to change who we are and what we do at any time. And that, to me, is beyond amazing and inspirational in itself. We all have the capabilities inside of us to chase our dreams and desires.

If some of us are in a situation where we can't leave our current job because of finances or any other reason, we can still dream until we can. Imagination is a beautiful thing. It can transport you. Simply close your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and imagine where you want to be. Let it be a preview of where you're going if you just keep trying.

We should all go after our dreams. Take little steps to get there if you must. Before you know it, all of those little steps will add up, and you will be there. It may not take as long as you think.

You just have to try.

And don't give up on yourself.

Everything happens as it should
To those that it should
When and how it should
Claim what is already yours
Believe you have already received it
And so it shall be.

There is a power that lives within you.
Ancient, untamed, and unafraid.
A force that cannot be extinguished,
A destiny that cannot be swayed.

The stars have witnessed your becoming.
The moo…

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I feel we all have different types of love languages.

Maybe finding someone with a similar type to ours is how we find someone who is compatible with us.

Then there's the whole opposites-attract aspect as well.

Maybe the best match is when you have some similarities and some differences. Maybe this type of yin-and-yang dynamic could be what forms a d…

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There are hidden keys inside each of us.

Overcoming the hard things takes some time.

We face some of the worst things we can possibly face, and we are expected to just get over it, buck up, and move on. When did this become the norm?

As a Gen Xer, I was surrounded by this mindset. I believed this was the only way to deal with things for such a long t…

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Keep knocking me down.

With every blow, I get stronger.

Don't you know me by now?


Trauma can't hold me down.

I absorb it and transform it

Into light for my higher ground.


I alchemize all my pain

Through creation and writing; I'm diving.

It reveals all and explains.


You put me in the dark and think I can't see,

But I'm acclimated to it now.

It's actually my revelry.


There is NOTHING that can stop me

In my purpose, my truth.

These shackles are broken; I am already free.


I bend the shadows, own my nights.

None of this defines me.

I am the dark and the light.


I am a warrior of the Most High.

Do you not remember me?

I rise every damn time in excellency!


I might hang a little longer

And devise an even better battle plan,

But watch your ass when I emerge,

And catch me if you can!

When I was a child, I used to run around and play outside a lot.

I loved the outdoors. Just sitting in nature felt right. It still does.

Running around trying to catch fireflies. Simply sitting and beholding the beauty of their luminescence. Wondering what it meant. If they were silently speaking to each other in their own language. Turns out, they do use it to communicate in different ways.

Fireflies glow because of a chemical reaction that occurs within themselves. They take in oxygen, just like us, and it reacts with substances within them to make them glow. Some species even practice synchronized glowing.

They control their glow. We are lucky enough to be able to witness how beautiful they are when they let us. Their glow produces very little heat, so their light doesn't harm them.

We are so similar to things in nature. Like the fireflies, we can also glow. We can shine our lights for others to behold.

Also, like the fireflies, we are all a mix of the light and the dark. Sometimes we glow brightly, and sometimes we go dark for a little while before we glow again. Maybe it's because, like the fireflies, we need a break. Things around and within us can affect how long and how brightly we glow, and also how long we remain in a darker place.

Sometimes, it is not so much that we are in a darker place, but simply that we need a pause. Maybe we feel we need to protect ourselves because of how others view our light. Maybe part of our glow is also protecting and defending ourselves, like the firefly does.

I feel like sometimes our light can cause others to also be filled with light, and other times, it can repel others who may not have the same glow. I also feel that some people wish to obtain others' light for lack of their own.

To me, light is energy. And energy creates a frequency or vibration that can attract others like a beacon. Some relate to it because they are on the same frequency. And some just feel better when in its presence. It lifts them up. Yet, I also feel some grow spiteful when around it and want to harness it for their own.

I was once told, "I just want to lock you away somewhere and keep you all to myself. Keep you protected and keep you forever."

But we are like fireflies. We deserve to be free enough to fly and to spread our light and positive energy into the world and onto others. Some people out there need our help and our light. I feel the ones who shine their light from a true higher place, with good intent, are already protected. We are somehow shielded in ways we don't understand. We don't deserve to be locked away.

If you ever catch a firefly, let it go and allow it to fly. Otherwise, it may die and never be able to shine again, for you or anyone else.

As for me, even if I get knocked down from time to time and my light dims or goes dark, I will always rise and glow again. My light comes from within, just like the firefly. No one can completely steal that from me. I want to be playful, free, and feel like I can fly, just like the fireflies make me feel when I see them and am in their presence.

Do not let others dim or steal your light. Take a pause if you need to.

Then fly and glow again like the fireflies.✨️

Thank you for reading! Now go shine your lights.✨️

Angels surround you
Carefully catching your tears
They throw them to the heavens
So they rain down and wash away those years

They wrap their wings around you
Protecting you with love
They've been there all along
Even more watching from above

They blocked out the pain
Erased all the hurt
Until you were adapted
To let it immerse

Now they carry your heart
So tenderized, so procured
They inject the veins with stardust
To help with all that you've endured

They help extract the weight
So that you can breathe
They flap their wings in unison
To create a sacred breeze

The moon whispers to the stars 
To twinkle even brighter
So that when your eyes find them
Deep inside, they ignite the writer

Though the world around you spins
And you remain silently still
The universe knows
When you are ready to surface, you will

Thank you for reading. ✨️🫶✨️

Image created by Author via ChatGPT 

CONTENT WARNING: Childhood physical abuse, sexual abuse, and trauma.

(The hardest one to share yet, but it needs sharing while it's fresh. Otherwise, I might never share it. Written 8/24/2026)

I've been searching for years for the missing puzzle piece.

Tonight, I figured out what it was.

And it wasn't at all what I thought it was. It was far uglier, far darker, and way worse than anything I could have imagined.

Tonight, I am in mourning. In mourning and grieving for the little girl inside me who finally got set free.

I thought she was only emotionally, mentally, and physically abused by her stepfather and witnessed her mother's abuse, too. As if that wasn't enough...

But no... that wasn't all.

She was also... it pains me deeply to even type this... but I have to speak it to let it out, to let her out, and set her free.

Read more

Transform Your Trauma
Into a Tool
That You Can Use to Help
Someone Else
Speak it with Conviction
Speak it With Power

T - Trauma
I - Isn't
M - My
E - Excuse

Use your time as you would
If you had no trauma.
Spend your moments as if
You've never been hurt before.

Go back to that child you were
Before the world dug in its claws
And transformed you.

Do not let that time period continue
To steal your present and future time
Anymore.

Tell that child it is safe now
To come out and play
And live again.

Move that child
Out of the Time of Darkness
So Your Light Can Shine.

This Time,
Let it Light You Up and Flow
Onto Others In Ways it
Never Has Before.

Then you are ready to
Share your story.
All of it. The dark that you learned from
And the light that pulled you through,
In the most vulnerable way
Possible. Loudly. Unapologetically.

You will heal even further
And become even stronger,
Through telling your story.
And others, in turn,
Will Do The Same.

Thank you for reading.

(c)2026 Limitless Crescendo Enterprises dba LustralLibelle. All Rights Reserved. Original Creative Works.

What’s come over me, I fail to see,
Lost in thoughts that won’t let me be.
No track of time, no sense, no clue,
Just tangled dreams I’m walking through.

I rise at dawn, or maybe late
I don’t recall the time or date.
No urge to eat, no taste, no care,
As if my soul’s not really there.

The evening comes, but I don’t feel,
The breeze that once had charm and zeal.
I search for me in empty space,
A shadow lost without a face.

Where did my wishes fly away?
My hopes, my dreams, where do they stay?
That open sky I used to know
Where stars would shine and gently glow?

Where is the cry when I feel pain?
The smile that bloomed in sun or rain?
Where did I go, so far, so fast,
That even memories couldn't last?

But maybe on a quiet street,
One day my soul and I will meet.
Just give it time, a spark, a light
And I’ll return from out this night...

(~Vishi Saxena)

But what if I wasn't really lost at all?
I may have stumbled, but did not fall.
My time on the floor— in tears, and my fears—
Is exactly what was needed to lead me here.

Only in my thoughts and my mind; I was lost.
The clock was not wound; its hands were crossed.
My dreams were construed; my steps became jagged.
My path was uncertain; I thought it was ragged.

No nourishment to my body was just fasting.
Wrapped up and disguised as something lacking. 
My soul...silently screaming as it was healing 
While seeming stuck inside a vortex that kept me kneeling.

And praying for saving though I did not know,
I was reaching for something I knew once—long ago.
Though numb, I knew I once felt
Feelings much deeper than what I was now dealt.

Yet the emptiness teaches me to keep looking within-
To find all my dreams, to begin it all again.
The sky—still there, above the ocean where I swim.
My tears made this ocean; Seeking the sun is where I begin.

Perhaps where I went was not far at all.
Maybe my perception transcribed my fall.
Through the rain, an illusion of my sense of myself.
My smile was not hidden, just turned on itself.

As I find the shore, while the ocean still roars,
I find my step lighter than ever before
The sun beaming down, calms my fears to rest.
The street lies ahead, though quiet still suggests.

Everything I thought was bleeding me dry
Was sent to save me, my soul and I.
As the pain flows out, now there's room for more.
For the spark that once lit up my soul to soar.

(~LustralLibelle) 



Thank you for reading our collaboration! This was a lot of fun and I hope to collaborate with others in the future. 

Follow Vishi Saxena on Substack at Vishi's Substack

You know where to find me. :P

Let me tell you a story. A true story.

Once upon a time, in a realm far, far away, there was a strong, smart, and powerfully independent woman. We'll call her Issalla.

This woman was not happy within herself. She was struggling financially, as she had for most of her life, living beyond her means. She became medically limited and felt she was broken. So she began seeking riches and a distraction from her reality.

She stumbled upon a world she had never seen before that promised riches galore. Something within her clicked with this newfound world. She immersed herself in it fully to escape her everyday life.

She joined a group to grow faster. No one spoke. Then, a woman reached out to her and convinced her to join her and her people. They talked to each other. She found herself engaging way more than usual.

She became a leader.

She struggled privately with being herself. But with these people, she somehow felt safe.

It wasn't until the group was disbanded that she found her true voice, when she decided to take on the role of first-ranking leader herself. It just felt like the right thing to do—to try to help everyone. She had paid close attention to the way things were done and somehow knew she could handle it.

After the group was established enough, she left for another group through a friend she had met. A courageous man who spoke his mind. He appeared unafraid of anything or anyone. He used his words to help her previous group go from being a target to being able to live in peace.

And peace was all she really wanted.

She wanted to be a normal person without being involved in leadership. She was drained from being a leader and being responsible for so many souls. As an empath, she knew it wasn't good for her to care for so many.

She was granted this request, but before long, her new leader asked her to take a bigger step into helping. She accepted because she could clearly see they needed the help. He had led her to believe the group was on autopilot and running smoothly.

It clearly was not.

So she stepped up.

The first thing she did was read back through the leader chat. She found they had needed someone for a while. It seemed the whole point of getting her there was to have her lend her help to them. And by this time, she had already bonded with the leader enough to want to make him happy—to return the favor of him helping save her previous alliance.

And boy, did she ever return that favor.

Ten-thousandfold.

She ended up single-handedly running the entire alliance. She poured every ounce of herself into it.

Three days before she joined the group, she suffered a stroke, not knowing what it was at the time. What did she do, though? She kept pushing forward like she always did—through cataract surgeries, dealing with a blood disorder, a tumor in her head, her son's illness and surgery—and continued helping.

She helped and helped and eventually became the leader herself when he left.

Possibly to prove to herself that she could do it.

Possibly to keep herself busy so she wouldn't have to deal with the pain his leaving left her with.

She poured her heart and soul into this group so completely that eventually she looked at her own life and realized she had stopped living it.

She lifted others up and helped some learn and grow in various ways. For some, it was simply game tactics. For others, it became personal.

Helping others helped her heal.

She lifted up people who never lifted her, not even once. But she did things without expecting anything in return. It's who she was. She truly loved these people as if they were her children.

She wanted them to feel the love that she wanted in her own life.

If she didn't have it herself, maybe she could at least give them the love she so desperately craved.

Slowly, she started letting others take on more responsibility. Yet she took on other things to fill the gap. She took things entirely too personally and tried to save the realm from dying after many had left. She faced opposition diplomatically and continued tirelessly trying to show them the right way, only to be disrespected and argued with relentlessly.

She decided to withdraw from the diplomacy angle to lessen the load, yet she was in too deep and continued to weave her way in, even without being involved directly, through her peers.

Because that's how good at it she was.

People in her group adored her and followed her decisions, whether right or wrong.

All of this, coupled with trying to form relationships with people who did not respect her enough to reciprocate properly or in healthy ways, finally got the best of her.

It all became too much.

She began not to trust anyone. She suspected everyone of everything, privately, in her own mind. She spiraled into a dark abyss from which she could see no way out.

Her heart turned black as she conspired against her rivals within the same realm she had tried so desperately to save.

She pushed those who wronged her away from the alliance however she could without making it look like she had done it directly. She came very close to burning some castles to get even and somehow feel justified in her efforts—to prove, if only to herself, that everything she had done had not been in vain.

Friendships fell.

Relationships went nowhere.

Then one day, she looked in the mirror and didn't recognize herself.

She was so tired from all the sleepless nights spent trying to strategize and read between all the blurred lines. She had stopped eating almost completely. Her castle was a mess.

Then her son asked her if she was OK.

That was the final straw.

She knew what she had to do.

She had given so much of herself away to others that she had nothing left to give back to herself. Leaving was the only option if she was ever going to save herself and find her way back.

The lines between friendship and love had become so blurred that she could no longer see the difference.

She finally realized she could not save anyone except herself.

When she gives, she gives her all. There is no halfway with her.

When she loves, she loves wholeheartedly, sometimes forgetting to love herself.

Others' emotions, problems, and energy consumed her. She absorbed everything within herself, trying to take the pain away from them, until she reached the point of no return.

She forced herself to leave.

Not because she didn't care, but because she cared too much.

Now she has to learn balance all over again.

How to love herself again.

How to give to herself again.

And how to fully receive again.

For only then will she be able to trust herself again.

She is still healing, still growing, still wishing she could balance it all and make everyone happy. But first, for once in her life, she has to put herself first.

So she grabs her enchanted pen.

The one that writes what she somehow needs to hear herself.

The one her ancestors speak to her through.

And she transcends herself through these words.

She draws her own path. One with clarity. One with peace. One where she knows she will find what she needs and deserves.

She summons back all of her power and strength with every step she takes.

As for those she left behind, the true friends—the ones who really are true and genuinely want the best for her—will find her again somehow.

The imprints they left on her heart she will carry within her, like a light in the darkness of a buried, forgotten dungeon that merges with her own light and shines eternally.

The light she carries now will be blinding, yet warm and full of fire. It was forged from the love she received and the healing she found within that realm.

AND this light will continue to glow and grow as she learns to love herself yet again.

________________________________________________

Perhaps that was the treasure hidden inside the castle all along. It was never the riches she went there seeking, the realm she fought so hard to save, the people she tried to protect, or even the love she hoped someone else would finally give her. The treasure was the woman who emerged from the dungeon carrying her own light.

She entered that realm searching for an escape and came out having found herself. And although part of her heart will always belong to the souls who once walked those castle halls beside her, she no longer needs to remain imprisoned there to prove that she loves them.

She doesn't have to burn the castle down. She doesn't have to abandon the kingdom or swear never to pass through its gates again. Sometimes she may return. She may wander its halls, laugh with familiar souls, fight a battle simply because she feels like it, and remember everything that world once gave her. But now, when she enters, she carries the key. She decides when the gates open. She decides how long she stays. And she decides when it is time to leave.

The realm that once became her escape, her responsibility, her obsession, and eventually her prison can finally become what it was always supposed to be—a place she visits for enjoyment, on her own terms and in her own time.

She can carry their light without carrying their weight.

She can love them without being responsible for them.

She can remember the kingdom without ruling it.

The battles that belong to her are hers to choose now. The castle still stands. The gates remain open. The light is hers.

And somewhere beneath it all, behind a door for which only she holds the key, the dungeon sleeps.