At the crossroads of time, when a poet fades into silence

At the crossroads of time, when a poet fades into silence, His words remain to dance, carried by the wind's resilience, Whispering untold stories to ears that have yet to hear, Secrets hidden in every line, like deep music clear. The flow of his consciousness runs unrestrained through ink veins, On paper yellowed by time, a map of the soul is unveiled, Carrying echoes of a life lived intensely, with pride and pains, A symphony of emotions in every syllable that prevailed. His verses, like night butterflies, fly through the dark, Seeking the light of a new mind, eager to embark, Gently landing on the retina of an unknown reader in an ethereal dance, Planting seeds of thoughts and dreams that yearn for a chance. In the mirror of his soul, the departed poet finds reflection, Gazing through another's eyes now, reborn from his own ashes, Like the Phoenix, he rises again, bearing the same mission, In the heart of a new path-maker, a new story crashes. His words flow like an endless river, unfettered and free, Nourishing the barren soil of human imagination with living water, Metaphors are falling stars that light up the night's canopy, Bringing hope and joy to a weary, dark world, a magical charter. In every long verse hides an untold story yet to be revealed, A tear, a smile, a fragment of pure eternity concealed, And the poet, though gone, lives in every syllable unfurled, In every emotion awakened in the reader's heart, his world. Thus a new poet is born from the ashes of one passed, Carrying the torch of truth onward, with trembling hands, Touches the blank page, feeling the weight of unspoken words, In the flow of his consciousness, voices from past and present merge. A unique symphony is created, a blend of old and new, And the world, through his eyes, takes on unexpected, vibrant hues, A magical and melancholic reality slowly unfolds, In verses that will endure through time, always fresh and bold.