In the deep silence of thoughts, where the poet's soul flutters like a butterfly caught in winds
In the deep silence of thoughts, where the poet's soul flutters like a butterfly caught in winds,
He carves his path through the shadows of a culture that swallows him, relentless, unforgiving,
A son of words, a bastion of verse that refuses to be shaped by the hands of time,
He stands before the storm, bare-chested, unwavering, seeking to keep his essence untainted.
In the flow of consciousness, thoughts stream like a wild river winding through valleys and hills,
The poet, an architect of emotions, builds his fortress of metaphors, stone by stone,
Each verse a wall of defense against the compromise lurking at every corner,
A soul of iron but with an open heart, he sings his melancholy in a dance of endurance.
He knows that life is a stage where unknown plays are performed,
But he refuses to be merely an actor reciting lines written by others,
Instead, he writes his own script, with ink of stars and whispers of wind,
For to be a poet is not just a choice, but a destiny, a calling that cannot be ignored.
The past, present, and future intertwine in a dance of time,
And he, the poet, embraces them, finding beauty in their imperfection,
He refuses to sell his soul on the altar of acceptance, to lose his brilliance,
For true poetry is not born of compromise, but of the purity of a clear vision.
Thus, he remains a pillar of integrity, a beacon in the darkest night,
A flame that burns unceasingly, guided only by the light of his own heart,
He knows the power of his word can change the world, can build empires of hope,
And so, with every verse, he writes not just poetry, but the history of an undaunted soul.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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