Poetry Shall Endure Poem by Mystic Qalandar

Even now, when the world hums with circuits and screens,
and souls scroll endlessly through hollow illusions,
poetry breathes.

Even now, as morality flickers like a dying flame,
and hearts alloy with iron and ice,
poetry endures.

It whispers through the ruins of empathy and silence,
where soft voices once spoke of stars,
and lovers wept beneath the moon.

The poet still weaves verse from the dust of forgotten dreams,
etching meaning into the void—
where machines know no longing.

Though man, sculpted cold by greed and speed,
no longer bows to beauty—
still, poetry stands.

Timeless, defiant,
it sings in libraries no longer visited,
in old books scented with memory,
in the cracked lips of those who still feel.

Let the world grow digital.
Let virtue sleep.
Poetry shall outlive the noise—
a holy echo in the chambers of the soul.