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John held himself as best he could with his right hand, all due to that gaping wound on top of his head which began to make him feel dizzy. “I need to shut my eyes for just a little while,” he said, “but I’m afraid what I might see behind my own eyelids.” His facial features looked like he’s been covered by an apparition, a phantom lost between crossing over or not. However, as you can clearly see, what made is uniqueness; (face) was simply covered in silver colored soot.
Right inside this oil canvas I believe that John felt like a young sparrow during first flight, because he was remembering how the mirror of his world came crashing down ten years ago today and it was horrifying. The attachment to that moment remained vivid and he deemed it necessary to wash the guilt he was feeling with an end, (death) in exchange for a new beginning, (everlasting life). “I’ve been sifting through all this rubble for days,” he cried, “yet all I heard were their silent screams, an invisible void into no form of prospect, accompanied only by crying silhouettes in a constant daze until they started to depart, one by one.”
“How I wished to have been given the ability to rescue all of you,” he thought, “but a crumbled solid structure now claimed every form of your lifelessness like quick sand, not by our twin’s bidding; but by the hands of foreign
cowardice.” “If I had the ability to become a magic weaver my people,” he now stated knelt to the ground while screaming, “I would take every single piece of iron rod and scattered steel and begin to restore the World Trade Center while turning back the hands of time, but I can’t!!!” After such a declaration, John let himself go into the displacement of which surrounded him; and started to cover himself with the remains of the twin towers.
Silence then began to claim his answer through feeling, and John felt immersed by calmness and every form of anxiety left him in an instant. He then rose from the ground of which he started to cover himself, and now while standing tall he said, “I can feel all of you embracing me, while I do the same in return.” And then, his departed people lastly said, “no matter what transpired here today John, remember this always… We and America are the land of hope and glory.”
-Diane M. Bazail
In Memoriam:
September 11th, 2001 – September 11th, 2011
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She of course looked angelic, wearing her beaded sequenced gown she had selected when she and Daniel exchanged their vows ten years ago. Carolyn Anne sat there between both boulders in the purest form of perfection, and advised her messenger in flight that it was time for him to soar… “It is time to descend my messenger, she said, “because my husband is contemplating his own life right at this moment; succumbed by the torment of never being able to dance with me at Sunrise as we did many times before.”
Tell him that I’m sending him my spirit within
your precious wings, as a testament that I never suffered during that fall.” Then, she released him…When her messenger arrived; Daniel felt Carolyn’s words emerge from that Dove, fill him inside like calm belonging to comfort. “Yes I knew it would be a long way down, but to jump was my only alternative. Did I suffer any form of pain? No Daniel, for the Lord took me before I reached the bottom. I know that’s been your main concern throughout all these years sweet love, because it’s all you ever seem to think about.”
“Just release those thoughts; let it go and don’t
lose yourself like a mourning angel any longer. I ask that you stop crying and begin to live again; for I can feel the storm you’ve created inside you and there’s no need for that. It’s why I’ve sent you my spirit in the form of this Dove, to relinquish your sorrowful melody and replace it with the many faces of love we both shared together. Feel my guiding light Daniel, as your skyline meets my heaven, (look at it right now, for we are both watching it together) our heart and hands will always share a connection; because we were each other’s endearing reflection.”
-Diane M. Bazail
In Memoriam:
September 11th, 2001 – September 11th, 2011
“…The Guardian Ad Litem noticed her appointed child Eric, was surely pleased, he was filled with utmost relief, for trepidation was no longer a concern, his reprieve, no longer stifling. Therefore, they both sat underneath Eric’s favorite tree house, on a warm inviting day and discussed important events. Over time, their rapport unfolded, Guardian became 
comfort, alleviated his despondency and low spirits.
“Eric,” stated his Guardian, “you do know that ominous shades of gray will never permeate over vibrant blue?” Of course, Diane knew Eric was unable to understand her question, so she reiterated by stating the following, “During moments of despair, when you feel sweet child; as if you’re consumed by the darker side of your nightmares, remember that somber thoughts permeate, and consume solely if given entry. I’ll never have you sting at the hands of distress, for I have become your voice, to support and keep unscathed.”
-Diane M. Bazail
1-866-341-1GAL
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He looks at the golden flask which is wrapped in it’s distinct label, with sheer adoration; as if mesmerized. 
Viewing it like something to whom his innermost secrets can be confided to.Sometimes while he sits there and drowns himself with this flammable intoxicating fluid, he truly believes this fermenting substance is his family, his life, and his best friend.
Drink in moderation you say?
How can they, when an addict is bound to alcoholic servitude!
You can’t possibly look at that glass set before you, and tell me that you are not aware they claim it to be their entire world? Because they do, all four ounces of it; while the rest is diluted in water.
Sometimes, in order to see how habitual and excessive alcoholism can be, and how it claims an individual as its own property while enslaving them; the drink no longer allows the alcoholic to live his life; given that the problem is always seen from the outside in. Because they, the surrenderer to the product in question; is not aware they drink a formidable substance. Claiming
the one who is slowly growing critical inside, and taking their breath with every sip they ingest. Because the one who is consuming the legalized beverage; does not wish to unveil the truth and see it, because they can’t. Therefore who ultimately pays the price by suffering great anguish; while the one they love is slowly caving in and dying inside?
Family… Because usually, all that family can do, is horribly 
watch the loss and deprivation that is unfolding before them, as this devious and vile liquid claims their most treasured keepsake, sending the alcoholic to their final destination.
Drink responsibly?
“…Think about that slogan, for just a brief moment.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“…It all begins with this.”
Regarding the Families:
I’m aware that pain through suffering is great, and sometimes there is no place for it. Therefore use it, become aquainted with it, learn it’s demise, pretend to be it’s friend. In doing so, it will make you mighty and potent, totally forceful. Trust me, there will come a time, where pain will fear you, instead of you fearing it.
This piece is dedicated to you, those families who struggle on a continual basis, as they try to unchain and free their loved one from alcoholism. My heartfelt thoughts and warm embrace are with you always.
Alcoholics Anonymous
“…Always settle for something, and never choose nothing, because although you can’t see nothing at all; it’s there, hoping for you to make that mistake and select it instead. Therefore have a
preference, a choice, a plan, a strategy, and ultimately the outcome will lead you to decide in something.”
“…Because nothing shares no common interest or inspires to anything at all, which leads you down the path to nowhere, which is nothing to begin with.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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There are countless and many individuals, like the one seen before you, right here in this photograph… that should be referred to as, “lost souls.” People that dwell in the forefront of society lingering, as if far away in thought; not knowing where their next foot step will hit solidified ground.
Those who are seemingly distressed in spirit go about their daily life and routine, trying to find some form of happiness or peaceful resolution in some desolate corner on the: “boulevard of somber downcast.” Little do they know, that finding that truce and state of contentment lies within; deep inside themselves, a place where only they can ultimately tap into, and no one else enter.
“…I say this because who better to support and favor, than yourself?” Although it’s understood that some people can’t do it alone.
Therefore it’s imperative that one’s negative stride be severed, (just like her’s should) becoming the only way the therapeutic process will begin.
-Diane M. Bazail
USA National Suicide Hotline
1-800-Suicide (784-2433)
http://www.suicidehotlines.com/
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She was at the bottom of the wooden steps, feeling the warm sand as it embraced her feet. She realized it was a long way up; for those steps were treacherous and doubtful. Although she was unresolved inside her ability to decide, calmness therefore entered her state of trepidation, almost instantaneously.
Then it happened, the nervous agitation that was holding back her competence was lifted and swept away with the exhale of the Lord’s mighty wind, her fear was eradicated completely. Before he decided on his departure, to move on and leave her side; she tried in pure desperation to grab hold of something that was not there physically, even though she was able to feel it right next to her. She then felt his words…
“…During times upon which your body is in conflict with your soul, just think of me; and I’ll have them both come into accordance.”
So from then on, she did just that.
-Diane M. Bazail
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“…and the Lord said, when filled with life’s fluster; sit on my rock, the place I’ve created for you, and release your anxiety here; and allow me to capture it. I’ll simply have it become like the mist seen before you, see how it slowly disappears. If you heed my advice, and do as I say and not question me; before the sun breaks my horizon and fills the sky with my light for you, you’ll be relieved of your inner conflict and pain. Therefore believe in me while not shedding an ounce of doubt, and it shall be done.”
“..I love this type of photograph, as it truly captures the essence of my spiritual side to create. Out of the countless and many pieces I’ve written, this type of authorship is preferential to me.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“angel’s eyes”
Presented to:
Miami Children’s Hospital
This little one besieged me, holding me 
hostage; that I must profess. He stated, “Write something about me Diane, I would like to know what you see inside my Angel Eyes.” “I’m so curious; please do so,” he said, “because I would like to know what I’ve caused you to create. Also, 
promise me that when you’re finished, you will give this to my mommy and daddy because my heart is filled with intense love for them.” After such a request, turn away from him I could not, because his candied look apprehended me, surely captured and placed me in a state of written handiwork.
Mind you, Angel Eyes is like viewing the tallest rising summit, although he may seem small and fragile, his power to persevere is great, it’s the message he conveyed to me just now … I believe it to be an affirmation, that the eyes hold the secret to one’s inner soul. Look deep enough, and the glance he’s providing will begin to carry a message. Since I’m correct regarding the matter, what are his eyes 
telling you? “Look at them for a moment, go ahead.” What is his silent power of vision invoking? Strength!
First, he has an appearance that befits, directing your attention towards him; totally magnetic. Angel Eyes is a symbol of what every child represents, 
“which one,” would be your next question. Easy, he’s the epitome of pristine clean hands. Blameless, guiltless, and holds the true declaration to the meaning of innocence, the reason why children are the Lord’s favorite. Wickedness dares not enter him, doesn’t even pass him by because it fears Angel’s Eyes, for he holds an unvarnished soul,
essence in purity of spirit.Yes, he may be small, but the Lord is holding him firmly with his righteous hands.
“…That is what your photograph conveyed to me sweet little one, and now; I will fulfill my promise to you.”
Written by:
-Diane M. Bazail
Joseph Girado, President of the Criminal Justice Club
ITT Technical Institute, Miami-Campus
School of Criminal Justice
“…Mommy and Daddy, now that Diane is finished, I wish for you to know that I will heal, it will take time but please, be strong for me because it’s what I truly need from the both of you.
I understand that as I lie here, you feel broken inside, perhaps even shattered 
somewhat. However, I ask a favor of you, a request I know you both will keep. During times upon which your body is in conflict with your soul, just think of the Lord, and he will have you both come into accordance, and remove your pain. The reason I say this, is
because he himself came to me in my dreams and told me so.”
I can’t do this without you.
Love,
Angel Eyes
Ms. Mayra Muntaner
Program Chair for Health Information Technology.
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“…and then he said, “now that you have decided to open the door, and turn from your fleeing ways; welcome home child and do enter, for we have plenty to discuss, much to partake. You have strayed away from me for far too long. Come in I say; fear not your creator; but be weary of pain and suffering because it lingers in every marred corner of existence. If you keep me inside your heart, even when you walk and travel, all will be well with you. Remember, I am the one who has risen, and given your soul light, to ignite and remove fearful obscurity.”
-Diane M. Bazail
National Runaway Switchboard
1-800-786-2929
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although blank and hollow speaks volumes to me. Although you can’t speak; for fear of another lashing, your pain has sent me your message. The ache you feel knows that the one who inflicts your cause to become emotionally and physically numb is standing behind you in the shadows, he’s trying to hide from me; but I know he is there, “I can see him.”
Through your eyes I see, you’ve been incarcerated by this child slayer and tortured for far too long. I’ve come for you now, although I’m unable to erase your merciless past; I’ll be removing you from this house of horrors, and taking you to a place of forgotten pain and conflict.
“…Don’t worry about him, he’s my problem now; I’ll be back for him later.”
-Diane M. Bazail
Florida Child Abuse Hotline
1-800-96-Abuse
Lady in waitingsits immobilized atop the bathroom counter, “no one cares because it’s somebody else’s problem,” she cried. “Silence and violence seem to make quite a pair,” she continued on while sobbing throughout the morning snared and tied to his net. “I wish for someone to free me from this tainted love.”
“All she can do when released is 
scream, although she knows no one will come.”
“His fists pound her thought process while he beats her; 
all I ask is for him not to be so cruel, doesn’t he realize, he’s stronger than me?”
“It Hurts,” she cried, “but I’ve learned to release the pain from my body; perhaps this is home-made violence? I feel so numb, but I also realized that there is nowhere else for me to go, no where to run, no place to hide. If I ever do find the courage to leave, what then? he’ll just find me, looking through every crevice on earth, only to be lured back into his demising ways.
“…Usually, it’s precisely what happens, she finds excuses not to leave, instead of thinking of ways to escape.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“Eventually I believe he’ll change, she said… I just need to have patience. This is just a way he releases his anger, he knows of no other way. What else can I say, I love him to death.”
You’re referring to this type of love right? Because it’s where you’re headed.
-Diane M. Bazail
Miami-Dade
Miami-Dade Advocates for Victims
Hotline numbers: (305) 758-2546 or (305)247-4249 (Homestead)
P.O. Box 380817
Miami, FL 33238-0817
Administration: (305)758-2804, ext. 224
FAX: (305)756-1347
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“Lucy, turn around and look at me,”stated the Lord.“You can’t do this anymore, you’re withering away before me, and the body I’ve given you has nothing left to barter with, nothing left to exchange.”
The reason why I haven’t taken your last breath brittle child, is because your work here on earth isn’t done yet, you still have much to do for me, much to teach and inspire. There are times, that I must choose certain individuals to bid my work, and you are one of them Lucy.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying my
Lord,” she said, “how can I, when I’m unable to care for myself?” “that’s because you’ve given me your answer before thinking or even speaking of it my frail child. The reason? I know you more than anyone else Lucy, even more than how you perceive to know yourself. You’ll hear your words to me in a minute, give it time, and your plea will come very shortly…”
“Father hear me, please understand my situation, I feel so uncomfortable inside my own skin, even my bones are bothersome. Today I noticed that my hair isn’t as shiny as it used to be in fact, it’s falling off, I’m almost bald! Last night, I couldn’t sleep because my severe 
stomach ache kept me awake. I’m always so horribly cold and exhausted. I’ve lost the liveliness my eyes once had, the vigor my body once possessed, and my teeth look so unsightly.” She started to cry before the Lord and said, “I’m so ugly, I can’t believe I’ve done this to myself, please forgive me father; I’ve been so ignorant and foolish, look at what I’ve done to the body you’ve given me.
“…The Lord just allowed Lucy to vent her frustration and disbelief, knowing fully that he already advised her that it was not her time to go. He remained tentative and ever so vigilant; listening to his child complain.” -Diane M. Bazail
“I can’t stop my Lord,” replied Lucy, “I don’t know how, I’ve tried so many times, only to encounter disappointment, after appalling disappointment. Please don’t be angry with me regarding to what I’m about to
say however, I don’t wish to continue living this way anymore, please take me with you; I wish to leave this place.”
I do say this… “if I was given the chance Father, to start over and help those who suffer the same fate as my own, they wouldn’t take this vile and dreadful path I’ve chosen for myself, but it’s too late for me; I can feel it.”
“Are you hearing yourself speak Lucy,” said the Lord, “remember what I mentioned earlier, how I heard your 
plea before it ever entered your mind, and as to why your time hasn’t come?” “Yes,” answered Lucy, “you did mention that to me earlier, and now I understand.”
“All this time you were aiming at perfection, to be flawless and impeccable. When in reality, you were just doing the complete opposite, transforming yourself into the very thing you’ve been wanting to avoid, “imperfection.”
“Last night as you almost drowned in your own tears because you seemed unable to lift your head off the pillow, I heard your faint whisper; you called out to me wanting to change, to get better and help others. So here I am Lucy, your time has come for me to return the body I once gave you a long time ago.”
Go now, I’ve freed you of your torment.Give others the hope and inspiration to break the chain of bodily servitude and seek the help they need to heal from the inside out. You’ve been down that dark and narrow road Lucy; felt such relenting pain. I know you’ll do your best, and your decision will be wise and forthright.
of heaven right here along side me, thank you Lord for your words, as they are yours; and not mine.” “…Lucy stood up to leave, as the Lord indicated that 
she do, and before exiting that dark and damp room filled with sadness, hopelessness, and reverent demise, our Father restored Lucy’s health and body back to normalcy; back to it’s vibrant state, she looked as if nothing ever
happened.”
Therefore Lucy did as the Lord indicated, continued her path in helping others, as you will do the same.”
-Diane M. Bazail
National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Eating Disorders.
1-630-577-1330
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Baby rose is like providing spring love, the reason why the rainbow paints everything so beautifully, enhances every shade of midday June, and enlightens her parent’s soul 
with the essence of heaven. Baby rose captures tender dreams, believes in golden sunsets and builds bridges to hold onto forever amber skies. Baby rose can turn her whispers into a timeless song filled with childlike graces, which keep both her parents’ frame of everlasting love unselfish, loyal and strong. Yes, although small, baby rose is a warm attachment, which solidifies and holds her source of origin firm and persistent.
-Diane M. Bazail
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By looking at this photograph everyone, “which I truly love by the way,” I know for a fact that Siobhan’s favorite tree is the Cherry Blossom, because its beauty is like a pink laced handkerchief, intricate and finely woven, just like each and every petal flower seen before you. Collectively, this magnificent creation of nature offers loveliness to those who wish to be exposed to it, delicacy to every individual who wishes to absorb it, and pleasing for those whom desire to become mesmerized by its ornate and refined presence.
Honestly, no other tree can compare.
Siobhan is also well aware that if you sit there by the lake’s edge and listen to the wind as it starts to dance between each pink obliging petal, you’ll feel as if you’ve been succumbed to the world’s greatest symphony, as the branches start to
sound like the masterful four stringed violin, collaborating gracefully, as each pink leaflet provides it’s own distinct radiant sound across the majestic sky.
“…I believe this particular tree can make any heart vulnerable, like exposing it to lay bare without a body, yet enabling it to beat and manifest in some way to persevere and continue on.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“…Don’t leave, giving up to surrender, why
resign yourself to defeat? If your ailment is caught early, and hope is lending you his right hand, take it and announce your claim; aim towards overthrowing your collapse. If not you, then who?.”
-Diane M. Bazail
http://my.clevelandclinic.org/
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She took her own life that fog filled morning as she leaped from right inside that lonesome lighthouse you see to your left just three months ago, contemplating how she would end her days 
of youthful breath at just a lively young age of only thirteen. “Momma wouldn’t help me,” was her last cry to the roaring sea, hoping to hear the waves of justification, “all she would do is turn the other way, why?” Quietly she would run from her house of bodily disturbance, as she would reek the pestilence of forced adulthood. Remote and comfortless, it was that lighthouse, where she was able to break away and return to her state of bereaved childhood, until he found her there that morning while he was going up the stairwell. She heard his steps, and before he was able to reach her, she jumped off, and the sea claimed her as part of its own.
Florida Child Abuse Hotline
1-800-96-Abuse
“… Almost every picture has a story to tell, some far better than others. This however, was my formidable interpretation.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“Momma,” mentioned Crystal Anne, “I’m going outside to swing for a while under the Oak Tree.” “Alright baby girl,” was her mom’s reply, “but only for an hour, dinner is almost ready.” All it took was a second in opportunity, and the ominous threat became a foreshadowing moment of painstaking reality. Suspension in time became her parent’s response, while her mother’s emotions engulfed hungry and needy reassurance of her child’s safe return. Crystal Anne, the one who was taken, removed from her family, will perhaps become another statistical nightmare. “The evil doer will always have a special knowledge regarding his subject of expertise, that being of removal, pain, heartache, despair, and lifelong torment; the type of constant stifling disorder her parents will endure until they draw their last breath.”
“…hold your little gem (s) tight and keep strong vigilance, because we are the only armor they have.”
-Diane M. Bazail
National Center for Missing & Exploited Children
1-800-THE-LOST (1-800-843-5678)
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“I watched just as millions did, as they fell like living raindrops because heaven was surely crying 
that day,” said Siobhan, “even then, while those drops were descending, their wings were not singed or torn. During their moment of desperation, our earthy angels plummeted before us.” “Please Lord,” cried Siobhan, “protect them from the grim
dissolution that awaits once they reach their final destination. I ask that you remove the warmth you have given them before our earthly angels reach the land where we all dwell.”
“and I truly believe the Lord did just that.”
-Diane M. Bazail
“If we were to collect the emotional suffering that harbors inside old glory, what would such hurt
feel like? If we knew, I believe discord would finally eradicate itself from the land, and the tranquility of peace would embrace every Nation.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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“As a testament to my belief,” declared Siobhan, “our raindrops were spared, each and every name on Old Glory were never reduced to fragments and their souls were far from weak but filled with strength and comfort.” Complacency then stood at the far reaches and calmness engulfed our raindrops reassurance as they stood towards the opposite side of the stairway towards everlasting.
“Come,” mentioned the greatness of our divine promise, “there is no dispassion here my raindrops, no revenge or malevolence, no grief or pain. For sorrow and hatred is non-existent, it cannot dwell here.
*Psalm 23:3
*Who may climb the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place? Only those whose hands and hearts are pure. They will receive the Lord’s blessing and have right standing with God their savior.
“Therefore after the Lord’s speech,” mentioned Siobhan, “every raindrop walked while being
released by Old Glory, our flag knew it was time to let go. As a result, they were allowed to ascend; they were engulfed by the white colored cloak that surrounded the Lord’s sanctity in blue.”
“… I believe it was difficult for our flag to release the many souls that he embraced, but the mantle of his strength and trust gave his raindrops hope and instilled great fortitude to those who were left behind in order to rebuild and steadily heal. For terror didn’t separate us, it simply formed an even stronger alliance, and bound America and its people closer together.”
-Diane M. Bazail
This piece was proven burdensome
for me to write, laying a heavy cinder-block on my labored emotions.
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“Mommy,” mentioned Lily Anne’s strawberry blonde little girl, as they both sat close together by the fire place, trying desperately to decipher and comprehend her chosen book. “Do you know what I’m going to write Santa Claus about?” “What baby?” was her mother’s reply. “Tonight mommy, I’ll be writing my list and this year, I’m only going to ask Santa for a special request.”
“What’s that?,” her mom asked. “I’m going to ask
Santa to bring his elf and when you’re asleep during Christmas Eve, his helper will sprinkle reading dust on you so that you’ll be able to read my bedtime stories every night before I go to bed. That way, we won’t have to sit here and contemplate, wondering what all those words mean inside my storybook.”
Lily Beth’s mother was torn, her spirit felt divided and tenebrous as she looked and heeded her daughter’s words most ardently. “I’m sure Santa and his elf will make it happen my sweet baby girl,” her momma replied, “In fact he honored me with a surprise visit last night, having me reach out to an organization that can make it happen.”
-Diane M. Bazail
http://www.floridaliteracy.org/
1-800-237-5113
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I found this picture today and it spoke to me. It said that the crowd was silent, and his eyes were fixed, steady, and precise in respectful salute. This gentleman in pressed navy blue attire was pure and solemnly concentrated that eleventh day in September, as the silver bell rang its thunderous sound by old glory that day. You can tell because his eyes portrayed an impending overhang of tribulation and affliction. It became a day filled with visual impression, which presented and allocated our nation into the most perfect embodiment of something. It firmly grabs hold and attests to America’s character and unity.
“This photo is and always will be notably penetrating, because the interpretation of it is absolutely phenomenal in stature.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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Michael was unable to remain upright while standing on top of that steel frame seen before you; for monstrous architectural nightmares surrounded them; each piece of chaos and disaster wanting to take them both down yet his standing partner, while holding Old Glory’s staff offered his touch as a means to counsel his loss. Our hero then knelt, falling on his left knee because strength left him riddled with the sense of defeat and overpowering demise. “We were three,” he stated in a somber tone, in grip of his fallen comrades hat and number. “I told him I wouldn’t let go, I promised! When I
leave here and enter our family home, what am I to say, where do I begin to ease the detrimental loss of suffering and pain? I say this, because he was my brother; my beating heart, my flesh and unity, eternal best friend, and family.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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I would have to say… that I stared at, into, and through this picture for approximately fifteen minutes or so tonight, studying every line, color, curve, shade, and obscurity, and it started to convey its brief message to me, slowly whispering its words through the empty 
hallway and desolate nonfunctional stairs, so that I may write them down for all of you to read. What is it telling me? I’ll share it’s sentiment with you because this Twin Tower wants you to know that…
“Peril entered nine years ago today without notice or warning, but our freedom will never be taken, for it will remain, never to be dismantled. Distortion clouded our vision, but we will never be blinded. Desertion wanted to desperately separate, but it only brought us closer together, unified in strength and numbers. Ashe and dust may have covered the roads outside my damaged walls, but the overtness of American lucidity kept the intensity of our dynamic influence skillful, competent, and virtuous. Light beamed through every broken window like bright diamonds; as our nation’s clarity settled despite the chaos and dismay that entered.
My floor in which you walked upon before this event may be littered with confusion now, but it will be swept, and impairment will never be given the chance
to smother you. Your Towers came crashing down this very day nine years ago my American people, but nothing will ever stop you, because today marks an embracing pivotal moment, when your collaboration made it perfectly clear as crystal, that our superpower will never plea, never bargain, and never negotiate with foreign cowardice that governs the rise of wickedness to destroy the land upon which every man, woman, and child has the right to dwell. Before I leave you tonight, I know that my monument will continue to stand tall long after I’m gone, and you will prove every effort to preserve this great nation. Lastly, I’m aware you’ve been saddened and affected by this horrific terrorist attack, because all that remains are these pictures to view; but I know that you’ll never forget me and all those who perished inside, and alongside me. As I started to break into pieces that formidable day and began to disintegrate right before your very eyes.”
-Diane M. Bazail
I like this picture, because this solitary cobble stone when dropped onto the pilings of deadened sand generated a wave of sudden movement, it became alive! It didn’t care of its lonesome vulnerability, for it began a trickling effect of a future course that will encircle those who were touched by it to secure themselves within it, like a strong band or forceful ligature, it started to grow outward and fasten. You see, that cobble stone is the United States of America, being surrounded and safe-guarded by its people. (That wave is never-ending, never stopping, always moving foreigner). Its considerable duration is endless now, where those waves will end is anyone’s given guess. I however, see a continuous duration of flowing lengthy expandability, first-rate warriors waiting to broaden and touch others in just the same way to seal those circles completely.(Mind you, each grain of sand is an individual, a person, creating that perfect airtight closure as we go along). Now, counting each wave of sand would be difficult, yet by the time the wave has fully expanded, each person would be given their rightful piece of, “impenetrableness.”
“Awesome photo, love what it did to me. What a great way to start my day!”
-Diane M. Bazail
Meisterstuck, I came across you dismantled today while passing by your masterful table your greatness, while spread out in underlying defeat. Even then, I wish for you to know idolized one; that you still radiate like a Mediterranean landscape in streaming luminescence towards me. My question to you is…Why have you decided to drain your well of its precious ink and create an abeyance regarding your stories? (Don’t ever leave me) For your letters are that of painted starlit daisies, fresh walks through prolific moonlit melodies, and brilliance throughout reflections in forest creek. Just come back to me and don’t remain broken; just continue forth with your ability of written glory and allow me to place you back together in one enduring composing piece.
“I know this may seem strange, but I don’t like to see broken pens, or even dismantled ones for that matter.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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“Piano man, just sit there for me and strike your eighty eight keys ever so vehemently, because sometimes, I believe it’s all I have left,” wrote Graziella. “Your sound resonates inside me maestro, wanting to capture a love I’ll never seem to have. Only your sound understands that my tears have become the voice you hear in the shadows, and my moans drift in saddened darkness, only left to remain in dreadful blackened solace.
Oftentimes… affection, elation, fervor, and even the greatest enamoring castles never open, always wanting to remain closed and therefore entry just
laughs at me in great taunting as I knock desperately, wanting to gain access to happiness; but can’t. In furtherance, what am I to do great pianist, when that day comes, the day you’ll decide to abandon me as well and take your dainty note filled air from me? Where would I go, because I’ll have nowhere waiting for me; only but deadened auditory silence.”
-Diane M. Bazail
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Look at this photograph; it’s filled with enslaving addiction, the type that incarcerates your health while releasing horrid dependency… Denise Blanchard had the crowned reaper close at hand; in fact, it could be seen near her forefinger. Sadly, she wasn’t aware that this demon taunted her, making her take yet another deep inhaling puff. “I wish to send you to the dark,” thought the reaper, “your time is drawing near as your lungs continue to fill itself with merciless carcinogenic tar.” “Yes,” he continued on to say, “smoke it to the core young one and when you’re done, you’ll have another because self-control has abandoned you a long time ago.” “Because beyond the silence,” mentioned death, “your grave awaits and not even the mirrored cries of your family will aid you to stop. “You are mine,” he said, “becoming my personal stringed marionette, always willing to perform at my discretion and command.” “Why?” boasted the reaper, “for you are weak! And welcoming a good morning in lighted sunshine will soon come to pass. You’ve embraced a habitual sickening action, and your departure will announce to those you’ve left behind that a simple cigarette, overpowered you, removing your voluntary control.
“…Sad isn’t it? Think about what I just wrote the next time you decide to, ‘have a smoke’ will you.”
–Diane M. Bazail
Look at the picture below. Absorb it, and then read my words… eady?
If one is determined to carry their lighted torch for as long as it’ll take to reach their desired goal, (whatever goal that may be) will that individual accomplish it, or will he/she decide to let the torch go due to its intense heat?
I for one wouldn’t release it, (not anymore) even if it meant losing both my arms throughout that long process because one should never give up. So don’t resign yourself, giving in only welcomes defeat and defeat tends to dampen ones spirit, removing your lighted glow. Therefore take a deep breath and maintain your focus, as you continue to move forward and that latch which has been securely locked will open, no longer smothering your glow yet allowing the torch you’ve been carrying to finalize its way towards your version of attainable victory. Just flow with the lighted burn that now covers your arms, because no matter how hot your journey may seem; it will never scorch you to ashen soot. Stare into it, and become its master, as this man did.
-Diane M. Bazail
What’s on my mind? That my golden shield glowed brighter than a thousand luminary stars today, and I felt his honor embrace me. To deceive, lie, and remove his glow purposefully for the trade of a malicious act (s) will never be an option to consider. It doesn’t exist, because it won’t ever happen. It won’t transpire because my shield and I share the same reflection of valid distinction. Why? Because we became one the moment he was handed to me, and I’ll never have him tarnish and lose his grand luster.
-Diane M. Bazail
