The Soul of Poetry
In whispers soft, the gentle words arise,
A dance of thoughts that weave the heart's expanse,
In verses bright, their beauty never dies,
Each line is a dream, a truth, a fleeting chance.
With rhythm's pulse, the soul finds its own voice,
In every rhyme, a spark of life displayed,
The silent muse ignites, we have no choice,
But to embrace the light that poets made.
So let us seek where starlit pages gleam,
In every stanza, love and hope entwined,
For in this art, we glimpse a brighter dream,
The soul of poetry, forever kind.
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