Stepan ParunashviliTwitterBooks

The poem

The poem advanced
For eons and eons it flew
In rhapsody it grew
It’s majesty unwritable
With no ears to hear
Until one day, the poem yearned for a listener
So it drew verse upon verse
And a pattern emerged
From those patterns came more patterns still
So that one noonday,
A pattern of patterns took stock of what they saw
And for a moment
Heard the eternal tune


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