In a world where words are butterflies of light dancing at dawn
In a world where words are butterflies of light dancing at dawn,
The poet becomes an alchemist of shadow, transmuting silence into gold,
A beacon spreading its ray through the waves of time's mist,
Critic of society, he digs deep into the soil of ignorance with a silver quill.
Verses flow like a river of stars through the eternal night of consciousness,
Unknown hero, uncalled, but carrying in his chest a fire of change,
For he knows that writing is not just the echo of dogs barking at the moon in the village,
But a pledge to build bridges across the abysses of lost hearts.
If these words are just wind whistling through the void of oblivion,
Then why write, why dream under the sky of indifference?
In each letter, the poet puts his soul as a silent offering,
Hoping that somewhere, a heart will grow wings and fly towards truth.
Somewhere, in hidden corners of the world, the echo of verse will resound,
A heart will stir, will feel, will understand the call from the star,
Writing is not just creation, but a cry, a desire for change,
A manifesto to make the world better under the light of eternal dream.
Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2025
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