In realms of whispers, where echoes dance,
A messenger of dreams, in a mystic trance.
With feathered quill and ink of stars,
They weave tales on silken memoirs.
In shadows deep and moonlit night,
A conjurer of words, a wondrous sight.
Their verses float on zephyr’s wing,
A symphony of thoughts that gently sing.
With eyes that mirror the cosmos vast,
They gather stardust from the distant past.
Each syllable a comet’s sparkling flight,
Illuminating the velvet cloak of night.
A painter of feelings on canvases unseen,
Brushstrokes of emotion in hues serene.
They craft sonnets with the dawn’s first gleam,
A storyteller in the quietest of dream.
Through whispers carried on the breeze,
They plant seeds of hope ‘neath ancient trees.
In the garden of words, where metaphors bloom,
They nurture the verses that chase away gloom.
A harbinger of love, a serenade of grace,
They navigate the cosmos with a poet’s pace.
In the labyrinth of language, they find their way,
Guiding hearts with the dawn of a new day.
Oh, messenger of tales, both ancient and new,
Your words are magic, an ethereal view.
Through the corridors of time, you gracefully glide,
A celestial poet, forever our guide.