Poem : Poetry is Everything to the Poet

Poetry is everything to the poet,
A pulse, a rhythm, a heart that can’t forget.
In the quiet hours, in the dark of night,
It whispers secrets, takes glorious flight.

It’s the air in their lungs, the spark in their soul,
The ink on their fingers, the ache to be whole.
A song of the spirit, a dance of the mind,
A mirror to show what’s not yet defined.

Through verse, they find freedom, a place to belong,
In each line, they write what the world won’t see wrong.
The weight of their thoughts, the depth of their cries,
All bound in the stanzas where their truth lies.

Poetry is everything, not just a choice,
But the voice of a soul that must speak and rejoice.
To the poet, each word is a sacred thing,
A flame to be nurtured, a bird with a wing.

It is more than just language, more than a song,
It’s a lifeline, a love, where they always belong.
For the poet, poetry is not just a way—
It is their essence, their world, their day.