In the quiet corridors of the heart,
Where dreams take shape, a work of art.
A symphony composed by fate,
The melody of self-fulfilling state.
Whispers echo in the soul,
A journey towards a destined goal.
The canvas blank, the path untrod,
A story waiting to be awed.
In the dance of dawn, a sunrise gleams,
A manifestation of heartfelt dreams.
Each step, a note, in life's grand score,
A self-fulfilling encore.
Within, a flame begins to burn,
A yearning that refuses to adjourn.
The self, a vessel of untold might,
An architect of destiny, shaping the night.
Through valleys low and mountains high,
The self persists, reaching for the sky.
Trials and tribulations, the forge of will,
A self-fulfilling prophecy to fulfill.
In shadows cast by doubt and fear,
The self emerges, crystal clear.
A phoenix rising from the ash,
A self-fulfilling, relentless dash.
The whispers now a resolute roar,
A symphony unlike ever before.
Notes of courage, chords of might,
A self-fulfilling, celestial flight.
Oh, the power that lies within,
A universe beneath the skin.
In every thought, a force untamed,
A self-fulfilling flame.
No prophecy written in the stars,
No fate confined by prison bars.
The self, a sculptor of its fate,
A masterpiece in a deliberate state.
With every choice, a brushstroke bold,
A canvas of stories, yet untold.
The self, the artist, the composer too,
A self-fulfilling rendezvous.
And as the sun descends in grace,
A reflection of the self we chase.
In the twilight of the day,
A self-fulfilling mantra at play.
For in the silence of the night,
The self reflects a guiding light.
A journey embarked with purpose clear,
A self-fulfilling pioneer.
So, let the symphony play on,
A melody of the self, a soul reborn.
In the vast expanse of destiny,
A self-fulfilling legacy.


Comments (1)
that is exactly how I feel when I write. GREAT poem.