Email Poem

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Poem
To be different is your superpower,
An incantation hidden in the heart of midnight,
A silver vein in the dark fabric of the world,
Where dreams whisper ancient secrets and reality slips through veils of mist.
In the flow of consciousness, I lose myself in the labyrinth of the mind,
Where your inner gardens bloom in unknown colors,
Each petal, a symbol of your distinctive magic,
Among the shadows of conformity, you are a shooting star often lighting up the sky.
In the depths of my being, where silence carries ancient echoes,
I find reflections of your presence, a dance of light and darkness,
In this rigid world, you are a flowing stream of gold,
An eternally burning flame, bursting with power and mystery,
Your brilliance flowing from every step on the cosmic sands.
To be different is like a dream from another dimension,
Turning time into an eternal rainbow,
With every gesture, you break the patterns of normality,
Leaving behind a trace of unknown magic and eros.
In this universe of straight lines and rigor,
You are a magician of unwritten truths,
A storm of words and emotions defying the gravity of the ordinary,
Each thought a bow of circles, each breath an incantation.
The world wears its masks of humble uniformity, but you are the multicolored stained glass,
Every hue, every shadow of your being,
Forming a mosaic that unfolds only in the moonlight,
A story seen only in the eyes of those who lose themselves in your depth.
You are a fountain of mysteries beneath the core of the earth,
Your invisible current felt beneath the common surface of existence,
Teaching the roots of an enchanted forest that blooms at your touch.
You are that wave that shatters the rocks of conventions,
An eternal call to authenticity.
Your different magic weaves lights and shadows into boundless landscapes,
A reality anchored in myths and profound dreams, fulfilling you in unison,
Showing us that in your singularity, lies the power to shape worlds.
In the flow of consciousness, I always return to your essence,
Where rigid lines unravel into endless spirals,
And I recognize that to be different is a sublime gift,
A mystical poem written on the edge of eternity, where desires become light,
Flowing through the veins of a world that never ceases to transform,
In a melancholic dance of the divine and the magic that embraces us.
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