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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The ground trembles not with tectonic shift, but with the weight of undeclared wealth, the silent accretion in offshore accounts, a pressure building beneath the veneer of governance. Whispers turn to murmurs, then a rising tide of leaked documents, hushed testimonies, the glint of bribery in shadowed rooms, deals struck with a handshake and a lie. The sea of public trust recedes, leaving bare the jagged rocks of self-interest, the gaping holes where accountability should be, the stench of entitlement clinging to the air. Then it breaks. Not a wave of water but a surge of outrage, a torrent of revelations flooding the news, social media ablaze with accusations, the collective gasp of a betrayed populace. Homes are swept away not of brick and mortar, but of faith in the system, belief in integrity, the foundations of society eroded by greed, leaving behind a landscape of cynicism and despair. The powerful are tossed like driftwood, their carefully constructed empires splintering, the masks of public service washed away, revealing the avarice beneath. But the water recedes slowly, leaving a residue of distrust, a silt of disillusionment. The work of rebuilding is immense, requiring more than just new laws, but a fundamental shift in the moral compass, a deep reckoning with the rot that festered unseen. The silence that follows the wave is heavy, pregnant with the question: will the lessons be learned, or will the ground begin to tremble again? The memory of the deluge lingers, a constant threat on the horizon of the nation's soul. ©bfa0422325
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