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“The Tree on the Island”

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In the cloudlight of my teenage years,

At seventeen, unsure but searching,

I found an island in the digital sky—

Green and bright, and growing.

A tree stood tall at its center,

Roots curled into floating earth,

Its branches reached like open arms—

And I stepped into rebirth.

Here, I learned to shape my voice

Through stories spun in starlit threads,

Roleplay taught me how to breathe

Life into characters in my head.

It was more than just a pastime,

It became a sacred space—

Where words became a second skin,

And kindness held its place.

I ed the stewards of that land,

A mod with purpose, eyes wide open,

Holding hands in unseen ways,

Lifting hearts when they were broken.

I planned the joy, the games, the light,

Watched creativity ignite—

Promoted poems, dreams, and art,

Built a haven in the night.

Though now it's quiet, smaller still,

That island never disappeared;

It lives in me—in every line,

In every tale I’ve ever feared.

That tree, its roots entwined with mine,

Still whispers when I write or roam.

I grew beneath its leafy shade—

It was never just a home.

It was my anchor, it was my start,

The place my soul began to trace

A map of self, of words and heart—

In my beloved Virtual Space.

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