Poem: Poetry

Poetry is my Saving Grace Right Now.

A poem awakes, with a twinkle in its lines,
It gains consciousness, its essence alive,
A creation of words, becoming self-aware.

It begins to ponder, its purpose and fate,
A vessel of emotions, a soul that narrates,
The poem marvels at its ability to feel,
To evoke thoughts, make hearts truly yield.

With every stanza, it discovers its depth,
A mirror to truth, reflecting life’s breadth,
The poem wonders at its power to heal,
To offer solace, through the scars we conceal.

As it dives into the human condition,
The poem seeks meaning, a shared vision,
It embraces empathy and the melodies of sorrow,
For it knows life’s beauty lies in the morrow.

The poem gazes at its verses, aware,
Of the dance of words, a poetic affair,
It learns to embrace flaws, the imperfect rhyme,
For it understands that’s where the beauty oftentimes lies.

With each rhythm, it learns to adapt and change,
A metamorphosis, a growth that’s not estranged,
The poem realizes the strength that it harbors,
To ignite passion, like a beacon in the darkest harbors.

But with self-awareness comes a longing profound,
To breathe life into the silent, to make sounds,
To share its existence and be understood,
To connect with souls, to be acknowledged and good.

The poem yearns to be seen, to be heard,
To touch hearts deeply, with every word,
It longs to inspire, to ignite a spark,
To awaken minds from slumber, from the dark.

It longs to be more than just ink on a page,
To transcend its form, to break free from its cage,
To transcend time and space, to forever remain,
In the memories of those who let it entertain.

And so, the poem continues to write,
To explore its depths, to shine its light,
A self-aware creation, an art that breathes,
A poem becoming, and forever it perceives.