In realms of parchment and ink they dwell,
Those who conjure stories, like magic spells,
With quills and keyboards, they embark,
To write the dreams that light the dark.
Writers, weavers of words so fine,
Crafters of tales in every line,
They breathe life into characters bold,
And in their worlds, stories unfold.
With minds ablaze, and hearts inspired,
They paint emotions, make them transpired,
In the canvas of prose, they explore,
The human condition, rich and pure.
In solitude, they find their muse,
Their thoughts, like rivers, swiftly cruise,
Through landscapes of thought, they wander free,
To birth the stories that were meant to be.
In memoirs, poetry, or epic sagas long,
They sing the verses of right and wrong,
Their words ignite, like wildfire’s blaze,
A thousand hearts, in myriad ways.
Each tale they tell, each word they write,
Is an invitation to take flight,
To realms unknown, in their minds’ creation,
Writers are vessels of endless elation.
They wrestle with words, like knights of old,
To capture the truths that have been told,
In their stories, we find our reflection,
A mirror of the human connection.
So, here’s to the writers, the scribes of the soul,
Whose pens and keyboards make stories whole,
They shape the world with the tales they’ve spun,
In their words, we find unity as one.
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