In the tapestry of dreams, where moonbeams play,
I sculpt a kingdom from the whispers of the day.
With the ink of stars and the quill of night,
I weave verses that dance in the soft twilight.
In the garden of musings, where thoughts bloom,
A kingdom of serenity, a poet's room.
Each syllable a jewel, each line a cascade,
In the elegance of language, my realm is laid.
About the Creator
Sasi Kala
I'm Sasikala, a poet crafting emotions into beautiful words, painting tales of natrue, love, strength, and the human adventure with each poem.
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The AI Attack on Humanity
This dream haunted me for years. It seemed like I couldn't go not even one night without this same dream. Sometimes, something new would happen but the little boy was always with me. I still cannot figure out who he was. Perhaps he was my son in a past life?
By Julie Stull6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Very relatable and an excellent poem.