𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉

A 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎 is a wind-whisper, an ethereal strand spun from the tapestry of thought and feeling. It never travels in a straight line; rather, it wanders like a river, bearing the burden of words within its soft stream. At times, it sings with the beat of a heartbeat, throbbing in rhyme and meter, then at times breaks loose, unfettered by form, running as wild and untamed as a storm. A poem is the soul's language, an instant suspended in time, where emotions materialize as imagery, where silence shouts as loudly as sound. It is both window and mirror-reflecting what lies within and giving a glimpse into the world's unknown.