𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 I am bound to ink and silence, a pen poised above the abyss of thought, etching echoes onto fragile pages, where my soul unfurls like a whispered storm. Each line bends beneath its own gravity, a constellation of truth and ache, and I wonder— can a single verse shatter the stillness or heal the broken hollows within? To read is to drink from the endless sky, where poets paint eternity in fleeting strokes. I let their words fall like stars upon my tongue, until their light weaves with my breath, and I am no more, only a shadow cast by their beauty. — Nedim Ahmed