The Dance Of Unfinished Lines Poem by Anitha Vijayakumar

A river winds through ancient stone,
Its path unchosen, its course unknown.
It sings a song of what might be,
A melody of wild, untamed glee.

A flower blooms with petals askew,
Each curve a whisper, a secret true.
The wind caresses its uneven face,
Finding rhythm in its gentle grace.

The moonlit sea, with restless waves,
Crafts patterns only twilight saves.
No mirror holds its fleeting art,
Yet it stirs the soul, it moves the heart.

A painter's brush, a poet's pen,
Capture worlds beyond our ken.
Not in balance, but in play,
Beauty rises where chaos sways.

In broken shells upon the shore,
In crooked trees that twist and soar,
In laughter's echo, raw and free,
Lives the heart of mystery.

For what is life but a tangled thread,
Where colors clash and paths are spread?
Each step, a mark, imperfect, true,
A masterpiece the world renews.