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To be a poet
To be a poet is to sing with words
When all restraint upon the weary heart departs
When all the beauty of the language flows and flows
And through words we catch but a glimpse of realms of gods
It is no coincidence that the word rhyme
Forms a sweet pair with the word divine
We leave the mortal realm when we turn to the stories told
Through rhymes and rhythms we shall enter a new world
And in this world sweet honey turns to gold
Most precious song to which my soul is sold
In gratitude for every song I forged flees all regret
Sweetest gift of my life
To be a poet
When all restraint upon the weary heart departs
When all the beauty of the language flows and flows
And through words we catch but a glimpse of realms of gods
It is no coincidence that the word rhyme
Forms a sweet pair with the word divine
We leave the mortal realm when we turn to the stories told
Through rhymes and rhythms we shall enter a new world
And in this world sweet honey turns to gold
Most precious song to which my soul is sold
In gratitude for every song I forged flees all regret
Sweetest gift of my life
To be a poet
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