Story

In quiet corners of the mind, a story lies—
A whisper soft, a tale that dares to rise.
From ancient hearth to modern page it drifts,
A thread of wonder that the soul uplifts.

Each sentence, like a stepping stone on mist,
Leads wanderers through forests kissed by mist,
Through cities humming with a distant roar,
Through love’s sweet sigh and battles long before.

The narrator’s voice, a steady, kindly hand,
Guides hearts to places only dreams have planned.
Yet endings bend, like rivers to the sea,
Leaving room for chapters yet to be.

So let us curl beneath the lamp’s soft glow,
And let the story’s gentle currents flow—
For in each telling, old or newly spun,
We find ourselves, and we become the one.