بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

Dying Poet

When the time comes for
The nightingale to exhaust all chords
For the phoenix to burn all feathers
For the peacock to surrender all beauty

When the stream of ink runs dry
When the lyrics of emotion fail to enchant
The dying poet breathes his last
Ceases to exist
Becomes a memory
A pen name
A shadow
Whereby the student of writing is left his legacy
It is not for them to seek happiness in this world
If it passes them by it is a gift,
Aspiring to join the ranks of the dying poet.
For in his lifetime
He felt the peoples hurt
Suffered what they suffered
And his verses spread out like fire
Verses of sadness,
Of love
Of hope,
Of life.

The dying poet will leave this world to join the ranks of saints.

tempest


Dedicated to The Dying Poet.