In realms of words, where thoughts unfurl,
There lived a man, a poet's pearl.
His soul adrift on boundless seas,
In search of truth and melodies.

With ink-stained hands and heart aflame,
He dove into a pit, untamed.
A chasm vast, devoid of end,
A bottomless void where words descend.

He swam through tales and sonnets deep,
As metaphors danced in his sleep.
Each stroke propelled by love and pain,
A journey through a linguistic terrain.

Yet time was cruel, and passion blind,
His spirit yearned a buoy to find.
A sanctuary midst endless waves,
Where clarity could mend his craze.

Through currents wild and tempest's might,
His fervent will, a guiding light.
At last, he glimpsed a beacon bright,
A buoy floating, pure and white.

Upon that buoy, he took his stance,
And with his quill, began to dance.
Inscribing letters, word by word,
His magnum opus, a tome absurd.

From "A" to "Z," he etched his might,
Defining language, day and night.
Meanings cascading like a waterfall,
He built a bridge, a lingual sprawl.

With ink and sweat, he gave us wings,
To soar above terrestrial things.
He conjured worlds within each page,
An offering for every age.

The dictionary, his sacred gift,
A lexicon where all could sift,
Through words he wove, his legacy,
A tribute to his odyssey.

Though he succumbed to depths profound,
His spirit still, forever crowned.
For in those words, he found his grace,
A poet's essence, boundless space.




© AlmaDada
To my late sister, who introduced me to the love of writing.