Why Am I?
In the stillness of dawn, a primal question awakens,
A whisper that dances, a quest that never dampens.
On the blank parchment with lines, I lay my thoughts bare,
Each stroke of the pen, a truth I must share.
You define your font, size, and spacing that is life,
In the chaos of letters, I seek to find light.
In a sense, we are kin—words on paper entwined,
More woven than we know, in the fabric of time.
Shelter in syllables, where our stories reside,
Reaching for heights, aspirations as wide.
Like the ants in their labor, I’ll learn and I’ll grow,
Building bridges through trials, in the ebb and the flow.
Boys and girls, we gather, each voice a bright thread,
Mothers and fathers guide us, where hopes gently tread.
In the tapestry of society, we weave our tales,
Finding strength in our numbers, as each heartbeat prevails.
So why am I, a question that bends and expands?
In the ink of existence, I craft with my hands.
Through the lines of my journey, I’ll seek and I’ll find,
In the vastness of being, the answers unbind.
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