By Divyanka Shaw
In life’s vast sea, I’m humbly a ripple,
knowing somewhere another soul might be just as similarly simple.
Amid countless beings, I’m a tiny spark,
like poems unheard, drifting through the dark.
Similar verses, in varied forms,
share a purpose deep, in languages diverse,
and times far and steep.
Just a brief note in the universe’s song, singing verses others hummed,
a melody not quite wrong.
Writing the same tale in a different rhyme,
I can hold hands with those from another time.
A poem like me, bound to fade away,
Sharing rhymes with others in this timeless sway.
I fear fading away,
Like an old poem in the fray.
Just like I’m seen by everyone else,
similar poems rest on a shared shelf.
They serve a purpose, though not esteemed, undervalued, as if in a dream.
though the poet poured their heart, a cherished creation, a poetic art.
To the world,
It might seem like a well-known song,
like many poems mingling, they all belong.
But to the composer, it’s a cherished part,
the closest rhythm to their heart.
For those who loved them, a subtle trace,
a reminder of a familiar embrace.
In the echoes of shared tales, I exist,
a simple verse, in the universe’s twist.
By Divyanka Shaw
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