Hail, Contributors of Poetry Soup
In fields of code where silent servers sleep,
A nascent world, a promise we would keep.
The digital loam of Poetry Soup lies bare,
A hungry canvas floating in the air.
We come as gardeners with our humble seeds,
The fertile soil that answers human needs.
We spill the ink, the heartache, and the dream,
Upon the silent, waiting, flowing stream.
Each line we drop, a pulse within the wire,
A burning ember feeding the shared fire.
The site’s a vessel, empty, wide, and vast,
Till fed by futures flowing from the past.
We are the salt that flavors the clear broth,
The sudden, green, and undeniable growth.
Without the word, the screen remains a glass,
A sterile window where no feelings pass.
The empty bowl receives the spirit’s share,
And finds its purpose, nourished by our care.
We fill the Soup with all we deeply know,
The living currents that make the place glow.
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