Dan Enache Poet Free verse

With its pages spread wide, like wings towards the heavens

With its pages spread wide, like wings towards the heavens,
The unwritten poem stands, like a closely guarded secret,
Scattered somewhere in secret depths,
Awaiting the hand that will bring it to life.
Unwritten poems are beautiful, like a garden of dreams,
Blooming in silence from hidden corners of the mind,
For someone will write them, words sparkling like diamonds,
On a blank sheet, under the moonlight and the stars.
Each stanza will be a bridge to our hearts,
Each verse will be a mirror of our souls,
In the unwritten poem will reflect desires and hopes,
Like a path to eternity, in the quiet world of the night.
In every line, a river of emotions will flow,
In every word, an echo of our experiences,
For poetry is our untamed and sincere reflection,
An art of the hearts, beating within each one of us.
So, the unwritten poem waits in the shadows, anticipating,
To be reborn in words, in verses and metaphors,
In a melancholic elegy of life and love,
For poetry knows no end, it goes on forever.

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