Sunshine on the Devil Left Behind

The path tturns never a straight line.

This image captures that sense of motion and the "tick tock" of time passing. The woman is climbing toward the light as pieces break away and fall into the darkness, with the phrase "move forward" faintly visible on the rock face in front of her.

Sunshine on the Devil Left Behind

The path turns it is never a straight line.

Just to have that spark back after being in the dark so long means everything. When you are engulfed in dark places and spaces, it is impossible to see the light.

After being taken down, I crawl back to pick up the pieces and bury the past. Release it. Move forward. Do not look back.

I focus only on the ‘now,’ fighting the power that pulls at my soul. Refusing to release me.They want no safe passage out of there for me.

The past does not want to let you go.

He is gone. That was yesterday. Let it go. The ghosts haunt me if I let them stay.

I pray Dear God, Give me one moment of solitude.

Paralyzed by fear, I am pushed out of that miserable, created comfort zone. The suppressive weight tests me, feeding off my response.

I must get through this.I.must get to the other side.It makes me hungry for change; it is fuel for my fire.

I must find a way to get it done—to get through.

Every day is a commitment to the things that keep me sane.

I must unload this heavy burden. Like heavy rocks, I chip them down and release them. Then, the wave of madness crashes and washes away.

This time I am lucky as the demons we all have, are casted back to the beginning .The Alpha.

Brittle. Fragile like a glass figure on a shelf, hidden in my dreams.

Bright lights shine, expelled, back to reality with the ticking clock.

The cold ripping wind cuts like a knife in the morning dew.

Another day I must face. My insides are torn, isolated like an empty tin can on the side of the road—a shell of myself as the wind wipes through the empty spaces.

Echoes are voices calling from the past.

The sound of silence—like the sensation of being wiped around in a violent thunderstorms, solo on a boat at sea. Lightning flashes and crackles.

Two worlds colliding: hot and cold, night and day.

Wondering what could possibly happen next?

A rag doll, ripped, ragged, torn, tossed around in uneven motions like a pretzel, all contoured. Twisted. Limp. Suspended in space.Absolutely exhausted—nothing to hold me.

I crash to the ground. Barely a pulse. Is this where it ends?

A lifeless, empty body with no soul. For that slightest moment,

I thought I saw a bright light, heard the trumpets play

. A warm feeling crawled over my skin.

The roar of the screaming child—the Lion—pulsates inside my head.

Time to go," screams the man in the hat. He points toward the future. There stands the watchman,right next to Big Ben The Giant Clock.

Brave face. I thrust forward before I fall down the well, falling into the chasm, the abyss.

The only way to conquer is to will myself back, to the moment where my body was sprawled out on the ground. Broken, but handed a blessing,a second chance.

My body jolted,is buzzing with energy. I must get up to move.

Thinking of nothing else. Shut down. Pull the shades.

Maintain. Breathe. Do not lose it. Smile. Time to make the magic.

No time to waste; I must go to work.

Leave these skeletons in the closet. Broken. They must not follow me anymore. It is time to end the cycle. The devil must go back to the place he was before.

I take one more look behind me. As I slam the door to my yesterday,

I breathe out a sigh. Calm, if only for a moment. That is enough for me,now.

This image represents a powerful and poignant journey through recovery. The literal representation of the "heavy burden" as stones to be chipped away is a visually accurate depiction of the emotional labor described. It is striking how effectively the composition uses contrast…..the storm vs. the sunrise…….to illustrate the moment the spark returns and the light becomes visible again.

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The image illustrates a symbolic journey of resilience as a woman climbs a rugged path of shattering mechanical gears. To her left, the weight of the past manifests as dark storms, the spectral roar of a lion, and floating reminders of stagnation and ghosts. Centered between this chaos and clarity, a stone slab serves as an anchor, boldly inscribed with the imperative to “MOVE FORWARD.” Her path ultimately leads toward a radiant clock face portal, where a watchman stands atop a stairway, beckoning her into a sunlit future.