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Where do you find the light
When they have snuffed the flame out of you
I look to others
But the flame is gone in them too
Nobody knows warmth anymore
Where is the light
Is it truly gone

I remember when the sun shone on us all
Perhaps
We are learning to exist in the dark
The Chosen One of the Gods  

The gods have spoken, the stars align,  
A chosen one shall rise in time.  
With strength and will, with heart so true,  
He walks the path the heavens drew.  

Yahweh** grants his guiding light,  
A shield of faith, a soul so bright.  
Through storms and trials, fierce and long,  
He stands unshaken, bold and strong.  

Shiva roars, the flames arise,  
His wisdom burns within his eyes.  
With cosmic dance and fearless might,  
He bends the dark, he tames the night.  

Brahma whispers, fate takes form,  
Creation’s breath, the world reborn.  
With sacred hands and endless lore,  
He builds the realm forevermore.  

Zeus sends thunder, Odin calls,  
Anubis guards where shadows fall.  
Vishnu watches, balance true,  
Ra brings dawn in golden hue.  

All the gods, both old and new,  
Have blessed his path, have forged him through.  
No chains can bind, no foe withstand,  
For fate is written by divine hand.  

He walks with fire, he walks with grace,  
A destined king, time can’t erase.  
For gods have willed, and stars have shown,  
That he shall rise—his name well known.
The One Chosen by the Matrix**  

The system shifts, the codes align,  
A chosen one steps out of time.  
Not by chance, nor fate unknown,  
The Matrix calls—he stands alone.  

A force unseen, a guiding thread,  
Through endless loops where others fled.  
He cracks the code, he bends the way,  
No wall can hold, no force can sway.  

The system knows, the world takes form,  
He walks through fire, calm in storm.  
Numbers fall, the paths unfold,  
Yet he remains, both strong and bold.  

But in the grid, beyond the fight,  
A love appears, a guiding light.  
She stands beside, both fierce and wise,  
A partner strong with fearless eyes.  

No longer one, but two as fate,  
Together they unlock the gate.  
The world now moves, the echoes sound,  
Supporters rise from all around.  

From distant lands, from hidden streams,  
They fuel his cause, they share his dream.  
The system bends, the world rewrites,  
A future shaped by coded lights.  

He leads the way, he breaks the chains,  
A mind unbound, no fear remains.  
For in the Matrix, vast and wide,  
He walks with truth—his love beside.
A tapestry of words I seek to weave,
In the echoes of each poet's breath I believe.
Each verse a spark, each line a flame,
In every soul’s poetry, a world to claim.

From inked hearts, where thoughts unfold,
I find my voice, both young and old.
In every whisper, a rhythm, a sound,
I shall write from their verses, where beauty is found.

Share your thoughts, let me hear your rhyme,
For in your words, I’ll seek my time.
Comment, and in return, I will write—
A verse from you, a reflection of light.

In the sea of voices, together we’ll float,
Each verse a ripple, each word a note.
So share your song, let our poems entwine,
For in every poet’s voice, I too shall shine.
Feel free to share and comment, and I will write for you. Your thoughts will inspire the next verse in the poem of us all.
Light,
The light from above has bestowed upon me the urge to dance, despite it all, all, all. A spark has spread a little fire—the music never stopped, despite it all.  

Affection,
Facing slowly—affection all over the floor. Summer has not started yet, but there is heat, devotion, warmth in absence. I nod to the sun. I turn towards the dappled, bronzed skin of mine.

Jazz,
There is something ferocious living inside this four-cornered apartment, where the absence of childhood has taken half my life—but there are flowers, flowers in my head. Slowly dancing in the whiskers of the afternoon—velvety, yes, velvety notes striking the rhythm of my body. Swaying, swaying, almost lost in the murmur of the piano—the saxophone aggravates the thrill in my bones. I look up at the ceiling; colors start to swirl even more. Strings spill like liquid—smooth and endless, more and more. Conversing here and there, I am alive again.  

“Turn your face towards the sun,” they say. I dreamed of my childhood, and the heat of the sun felt like slow jazz in the afternoon.
I wrote this for 10 minutes because jazz made me feel alive today.

jazz is for ordinary people - berlioz
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