A world in words, both vast and small,
Where echoes rise and curtains fall.
A line, a verse, a whispered rhyme—
A journey made through space and time.
It paints with shades no eyes have seen,
With silver thoughts and gold between.
In silent script, it sings and cries,
And lifts the soul to boundless skies.
It speaks in tongues of love and fear,
Of distant lands and moments near.
A mirror held to heart and mind,
Where truths unknown we come to find.
So let the verses flow and swell,
In poetry’s enchanting spell.
A refuge found in lines that sing—
The beauty of the smallest thing.