"Poet's untold love "

 

One day, a grand event was underway. The auditorium buzzed with a huge crowd, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the poet.
In his study, the poet rose from his writing table, walked to his bookshelf, and took a gift box. Inside was a brand-new poetry book his latest work and the reason for his fame. Just as he placed the book near his table, his phone rang. He picked it up and left the room.

The room was neat and orderly, with everything arranged in perfect harmony except for the trash can. It overflowed with crumpled, discarded papers: unfinished ideas, broken verses, and rejected lines.
Suddenly, one of the discarded papers stirred. It was an unfinished poem. Slowly, it crept toward the new poetry book. A well-polished poem from the book looked at it and sneered.

“Who are you? So wrinkled and crumbled you’re not even aesthetic enough to sit beside me. Scoot over!” it yelled.
The unfinished poem remained silent.
“I’m beautiful, celebrated across the world,” the polished poem boasted. “I am the poet’s best work!”

The unfinished poem stayed quiet until it heard those words. Then, with a sly smile, it asked, “Are you sure?”
They decided to confront their creator. The famous poem stepped forward first.

“Am I not your greatest creation? Isn’t it because of me that you are celebrated?” it asked proudly.The unfinished poem said nothing, only looking into the poet’s eyes without hesitation.

The poet replied, “Yes, you are my best at least that’s what the world says.” The famous poem beamed with pride. But the poet continued:“Yet, unfinished tales spark the most curiosity. Unknown paths lead to new destinations. Unheard melodies are often the sweetest. Similarly, the poem I never completed the one that lives in my mind is my most cherished creation.

Its beauty is known only to me. No one else may understand it, but I do. Maybe I couldn’t finish it... or maybe I chose not to. I don’t know.”He looked at them both and smiled. “But you are both mine. You’re both my creations.”

With a full heart, he picked up the famous poem and headed to the auditorium.

In fact, some of the most powerful creations exist not in the world, but in the sacred space between the thinker and the thought. This story was my way of honoring that quiet relationship unfinished, perhaps, but infinite in meaning.

And I communicate with your minds through my thoughts ✨✌️