Treasured Muse
Ye my dearest, hath shaken mi grave.
Thou hath chewed the salt in mi muse to taste the sweetness concealed, oh how brave!
My soul thou hath relieved of its fears.
Waiting was i to rest, though time had distance me a barrel of years.
Perchance had i day-dreamed of today, thus merry i!
To my grave worms that draineth mi tears,
I begeth thee one last time to cry.
Tears of joy, my muse found itself.
Covered in dust, thou hath find it essence and hence found thyself.
Ye my dearest maketh me proud as i forever rest.
Ye have completed mi journey, and i bequeath thee the soul of mi quest.
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THE PREMISE OF LOVE
PoetryMy Poetry, the art form of the soul, is an exquisite tapestry of language that weaves together emotions, thoughts, and experiences with skillful craftsmanship. It is a captivating expression of the human spirit, transcending time and culture, to tou...
